The Secret Garden
by PBandJamieSandwiches
Summary: She was scared, unprepared. After her parents' fatal accident, she hasn't sung anything since. However, all that can possibly change when a certain handsome popstar moves next door.
1. Chapter 1

The Secret Garden

_Run like you do__  
I'm chasin' you…_

_Shane Gray_

_Does life quite have a meaning? Or is life to conquer above all in a category that only you succeed in? Is it a game of competitiveness, with the sole meaning selfishness? Or is life just brought to us so that we can live in happiness around those who are hurt-so that we can gloat in everyone else's misery that we've brought down to them? I'm Shane Gray. Popstar. "Big jerk." Asshole. The Current King of Pop. A Womanizer. _

_Those are all titles that mean nothing to me, and they never will. They are shallow and inconsiderate. But hell, these words are coming from me when I am shallow and inconsiderate. Everyone who knows me well calls me "inconsolable" and ruthless. Like a damned king sent to the throes of prison. When I stand upon the stage, I feel like everything's all right. The feel of the guitar, the melodies, the fans-everything is brilliant, and I cannot deny that. But there is something more to all of this. _

_It is the passion that I hold in music. I feel like an innocent child again, when I stand on that stage. The light beams down on my hair, and I feel like a million dollars- who knows, perhaps even more. And then reality sets in. Photo shoots. Make up. Movies. Directors. Inaugurals. I hate it. I really, really hate it. Sometimes, it's just best to be a normal person._

_Because sometimes reality isn't really all that truthful._

_____________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 5th, 3:45 PM_

_Seaforth Street_

_House #2_

I put my fingers in the earth and pulled up a long weed. "Uck. Bad bad weed. You're ruining my beautiful plants!" I said, pointing a finger at it. I started shaking my head when I noticed that I had just talked to a plant. With a sheepish smile, I sighed. It really was quite saddening to know that the only living things you could talk to were plants in your backyard. Suddenly, the gate in front of the house opened with a small creaking sound, and I turned around, glancing to see whom it was. I realized that it was my older sister, Leslie. She'd just come home from her work as the fashion critique for Connect Three.

It was quite weird, knowing that your older sister, had, well, connections with one of the hottest bands around. Personally, I couldn't care less, since the frontman, Shane, was such a huge jerk. It was about time for him to learn his manners. "How was school?" she asked, starting off a conversation of rather meaningless small talk, which cut me off from my thoughts on Connect Three. "It was okay, you know, usual." I said.

I wasn't going to worry her by telling her I had no friends, was a loner, my life really sucked, and that the resident queen of mean was making it a goal in her life to pick on me. "Any bullies?" Ever since my mom and dad died from a car crash last year, Dallas had taken over as a full time mom. I guess it's hard for her two, as she's in charge of me and Cassie, her younger sibs, and we're pretty tight on budget. If mom and dad were still alive, she'd been partying her ass off, like a normal twenty year old. "No. How was work?" I ignored the nagging feeling that told me to tell Leslie about Chelsea (who picked on me because I wasn't like, rich or pretty to her standards.) My sister, luckily has a great job. She's a fashion designer, and has worked with Kimora Lee and Stella McCartney. "Oh, it was great. That girl at your school-Chelsea Staub, wants this new dress created by me. She's promising a lot of payment, so we'll be able to get the new guitar you wanted!"

I was excited, knowing that Leslie had paid attention what I had asked for my birthday, but still peeved at the fact that her new client was Chelsea Reimer. Figures. Beside having the perfect bod, beau, house, life, and family, Chelsea also was mega rich."Oh. That's cool." I said. "So where's Cassie?" Leslie asked, looking around for our little ten-year-old sister. "Oh. She's inside, but I'm not really sure what she's up to." Leslie nodded, and then sat down on a rock beside the gate.

_"Mitchie...I need to tell you something, but I'm not quite sure if you'll like it." _

_"Just spill it, Leslie." _

_"Well...The Gray brothers are moving into the mansion next door." The mansion was beautiful. It looked was in the style of a modern spanish villa, with large palm trees dotting the perimeter of the grand and elegant home. However, the family next door had been trying to sell it since they were in debt, but it had stayed on the market for almost a year and a half now, much to the old owner's distress. _

_"And...Well...I offered you to help them to show them around your high school and to help them unload their boxes while moving."_

I wondered how Leslie could have known these certain "Gray Brothers."

_"Okay...What are their names? I'd be happy to help, but I can't be there calling them "boy" and "you." _

_"Jason, Shane, and Nate, in that order of age." _

"_They sound awfully familiar."_

Nothing could have prepared me for what was coming next.

_"The Gray Brothers is another name for Connect Three."_

_"WHAT?" _

_____________________________________________

_Shane Gray_

_September 6th, 11:12 AM_

_Seaforth Street_

_House #1_

I pulled a gray tee over my head and pulled up my trademark black skinny jeans. A pair of white sunglasses sat on the bridge of my nose, and my hair had been sprayed with enough hairspray for twelve other heads of hair. I was ready to see this "girl." Apparently, our secretary, Leslie, had informed us that she had two little sisters, one seventeen, three years younger than she was, and the other ten and "three quarters." Leslie was pretty, alright, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, but she just wasn't my type. Perhaps her other sis would make do.

I walked out the front door, the sunlight streaming its hardest yet. Nate, dressed in a black long-sleeve (he must be sweltering by now) had set a large box and was talking to a-

Damn.

That was one very hot brunette.

She was gorgeous. She had brown eyes, and wavy, reddish brown hair pulled into a knot at the back of her head. She had on a black spaghetti strap tank, jeans, and unlaced converse. "Hi. I'm Shane. But you know that," I said, cutting into this girl and Nate's amiable conversation. I was getting prepared for the screams and excitement (which was one big high factor when you're the frontman of one seriously rocking band.)

"Hi. I'm Mitchie. And you're a jerk."

My jaw dropped and Nate sniggered, high-fiving Mitchie. She pushed her gloves in her back pocket and high fived back, grinning. "What?" I exclaimed, still in shock. No one had ever had the guts to speak to me like that. EVER.

"I said, you're a jerk. Are you hard of hearing too, or are you just retarded?"

Damn. Damn. Damn.

"Well, hello to you, bitch!" I half-shouted, glaring at her. She now had her hands on her hips and Nate was trying to conceal his laughter behind the large box that held my stuff. "Nice. I guess you forgot about formality and politeness when you were choosing your attributes in the gene pool." Nate was howling now, "Bitchie" was smirking, and I was left seeing streaks of red all over the place. "I'm a person too, you know. You don't have to put up your asshole attitude in front of me." She continued.

"Damn you." Damn was starting to really be one of my favourite words now. I strode back to house, flinging my glasses on the couch as Nate tagged along, still laughing uncontrollably. I groaned as I heard his chuckles. "Dude, she TOTALLY owned you." "Shut up." I spat, pushing him. I went into my room and flung the door closed, making sure that it set off with a nice, crisp slam, to show that everyone just sucked. Of course, this was another cry of attention, but I could care less.

Because this "Bitchie" is going to have some fun with Shane Gray. Oh, it's going to be very enjoyable, all right.

___________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres _

_September 7th, 3:20 PM_

_Seaforth Street_

_House #2_

_ This is possibly the worst day of my life. _

If I had a say in this, I would have let someone else do the dirty work. Someone else to be chucked food at by the "Almighty" Shane Gray. Someone else to show the Gray brothers the ropes instead of me. Because now I have three very major problems in my life, all revolving on these three brothers. Screw the fact that they are infamous and look like angels, they are actually little devils in disguise (well, except for Nate and Jason. There's only ONE band member that has been having some serious PMS mood swings.)

My problems go like this:

A) Chelsea is set on pretty much pulverizing me now that I was the first girl to talk to Shane. She thinks that I'm trying to steal him from her (even though she says that I have absolutely no chance and that I wish that it would happen.) I literally barfed in her face when she theorized the "whatever" between Shane and I.

B) Shane has just egged me at lunch because he bitched out on me yesterday (Nate calls this post-embarassment.) He really likes eggs now, especially raw ones.

C) Shane has intended to also make my life as miserable as possible, and it is working since he is now "KING OF GRANT HILL HIGH" and I am a "LOWLY PEASANT UNDER HIS TOTAL COMMAND." Those are his words, unaltered, and that is a fact. He whispered those exact words in study hall today.

This is so unfair.

I mean, I HATE THIS GUY. I didn't even want to show him around the school! Now the majority of Grant Hill despises me when they knew absolutely nothing about me before! The only good thing is Nate. He's been extremely sweet and kind about me throwing disses at Shane yesterday, especially because he declared that Jason and he had actually been trying to kick Shane's spoiled brat of an ass for a long time. Yep, that's Nate, a real gentleman.

So when Leslie asked me the "how was school" question today, I told her that Shane threw eggs at me at lunch and humiliated me in front of the 1,200 teenage population of Grant. And all she told me was that I should give him some time, as Shane has always been like that. Especially near _pretty girls that reject him. _Which I'd just done-I rejected him and I was pretty (That's in Leslie's words. I personally think I am a clumsy monster who is never going to be very endowed.)

I gently ease a potted plant into the ground and grasp at another weed angrily in the garden, releasing all my anger into the pulling of the plant. I love my garden, and whenever I'm feeling sad or angry, I love to just let go and garden until my hands feel detached from my body and I whimper in pain. Okay, to describe it nicely, it's my passion-

A lovely melody fills my ears as I push the dirt around the newly unpotted plant.

It's my passion next to singing. That's what I'm hearing. Singing.

___________________________________________

_Shane Gray_

_September 7th, 3:20 PM_

_Seaforth Street_

_House/Mansion #1_

_I don't wanna fall asleep, 'cause I don't know if I'll get up,_

_But I don't wanna cause a scene, but I'm, dying without your love..._

My hands rush over the guitar chords as I sit on the balcony, thinking of her and eggs. Eggs cracking like crinkly foil wrappers and falling onto the head of a little Miss. What a wonderful image that's going to become planted forever in my head. Especially since I know this Little Miss personally.

Okay. Of course, the "Eggsident" was immensly hilarious and perhaps a little mean, since I have offically brought the most of the school against her. If not all. However, she was the one who was ranting like hell to me yesterday, and I really hated that. I mean, seriously, calling me an asshole? I am a hard-core rocker, bringing the world lovely music that drowns out the sounds of terrifying shrieks that are considered a talent these days.

I couldn't help it. Okay, maybe I could, but I couldn't stand her. Not at all.

Fine. I think she's beautiful and amazing. She's not like that mean, well, "bitch" that was trying to rub her chest across my arm-oh yes, Chelsea. What does she think I am, a perv? Anyways, she's just so...hard to understand. Like a mystery covered in a shadowy shroud. And she always puts her guard up whenever I come along. I'm not mean-am I?

Once I think about it, I am an ass.

I was a big jerk. I mean, I'm surprised that she saw through my A-list stardom and instead went for the inner guy. I'm not bad. I don't think so, anyways. But I am a jerk and have been for most of my career. I think I got too carried away, and thought that everyone was against me. When they say that only the closest people say things that you don't like, it's completly true. I was just too much of a spoiled brat to notice that, and to notice how carried away I got in my celebrity status.

Is...Is Mitchie making me rethink myself?

_"SHIZ!" _

I look down to see a very familiar brunette working around in her...wow...

Her amazing garden. It's beautiful. Gorgeous. Like her.

So we live closer than I'd thought, Mitch.

___________________________________________

**So...How was my story? Good? Bad? Also, if the storyline is familiar, I just wanted to let you guys know that I have a channel on youtube (xoCookieDoughxo) and that I had this story on Youtube, also. So please REVIEW!!! I need at least 10 reviews for the next chapter (because I actually have another story, but it's not doing very well.) THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! **


	2. Chapter 2

HAHA. I am growing seriously fond of this story, and I've decided to update you with chapter two! I just wanted to give a HUGE **peanut butter and jelly sandwich **to many wonderful reviewers: Starting from the top!!!! (All the first five reviewers have been put up here because you guys are just TOTALLY awesome.) **Sk8tergrrl700: **H_AHA. I actually already have a plot line that screams DRAMA (and it actually is quite like your suggestion!!!) THANK YOU for your lovely review!_

**WeCan'tStopTheWorld: **_I LOVE YOUR STORIES, but I haven't reviewed them. (*Jamie slaps herself and runs to type up a review.*) I LOVE your review (it feels awesome to be reviewed by an AWESOME writer.) Teehee!!!_

**WoahOh: **_LOVED the simple and sweet praise! I also LOVE the penname. ;)_**Too-much-of-a-book-lover: **_Agreed. I love books and can't live without them. Haha, thank you for also reviewing on one of my other stories!!! _**Alex. Didio. Xox: **_Haha, thank you for the review!!! They mean a lot to me and YES, because you are the second reviewer, I shall update for you!!! (And everyone else who has been amazingly wonderful to contribute the waiting reader part!!!)_

To the other wonderful reviewers, I'm sorry I couldn't put your names up!!!! These were the first five of this chapter!!!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS!!!!! Also, sorry for the typo last time-It's actually Chelsea Reimer. I used Chelsea Staub last time because this used to be a "Jemi" story. :) SUPPORT JEMI!!!!

The Secret Garden

_Hey darlin'_  
_know you making me mad…_

Shane Gray

_ I am not selfish. _

_ Am I?_

_ No. I could never be. _

_ The world is very interesting and very complex. As the stage darkens and I stare at the screaming fangirls, happiness blossoms as I'm in my element. And then I get angry. Very angry. These girls don't understand me. They only like me because I'm a celebrity and nothing else. If I was a normal, next-door-boy kind of guy, they wouldn't like me like they do now. It rather feels like they're using me. "If I had a date with Shane Gray I would just die. I'm serious." Would you? Would you really? Naw. When we all grow up to a ripe old age, you would just think of me as the nasty old senior guy from the local retirement home who did nothing but drink a cup of Joe everyday. _

_Sometimes, being a famous popstar in a major industry can be very exciting and thrilling. I mean, not everyone can always live their dream-and live the best out of it. Free hotel suites at The Plaza, girls trying to get all over you (that concludes why you'll always have lipstick all over your face,) and how the whole world seems to be right in the palms of your own hands. It's amazing how much effect that I have over so many people-so many people who are exactly like me, trying to live their life like normal people. Except that I'm just not that normal. _

___ But when you're famous and can get everything through the snap of your fingers, there's something very important that you have to watch out for. _

___ The people hidden in masks to control you, and the people who put up to masks to hide their apparantly "shameful" selves. The using, manipulative masks, who put on a stunning, beautiful face that everyone always looks at. Then they ignore the inner bitch waiting to be released to all. And then there's the modest, trying not to be extremely pretty masks, who are always the ones who are so true and realistic and the ones that everyone always dreams about but never gets. But sometimes it's really hard to tell the difference. And then you get frustrated again, and the anger wells, and, well, back to square "Jerk."_

___ And then there's Mitchie. With or without the mask, she's just..._

___ Wow. Damn. _

___ Those are the two one-syllable words that I can describe her with. Oh sure, there's many others, but none that quite suits her like those. None quite, and none that ever will be. Because Mitchie doesn't need a mask-she threw hers away a long time ago and remembered to pick up one screwed up popstar on the way from the junkyard, giving him a chance. And changing him. _

_____________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 10th, 11:25_

_Seaforth Street_

_House #2_

_ "Cassie, come on!" _

___"Mitchie...I don't wanna! I hate the water!" _

___ "Aww...Cass, it's just water. We drink it every day and we need it to keep our bodies healthy-and that means cleaning, too!"_

___ "But Mitchie!!!"_

___ "Cass, I can't stay here forever. Come on, I'll help you if you promise not to jump out and make the bathroom all wet. That's wasting water, and water costs money."_

___ "Okay, Mitchie. I won't waste money."_

It's quarter past eleven, which is very late for a ten-year-old to be having a bath. Especially for a ten-year-old who is heading off to school tomorrow at eight thirty. However, Cassie had managed to avoid bathtime using her "Trademark Cassie Puppy Dog Face" to procrastinate for a while, using excuses such as _"I'm reading a really, really, good book!"_ and _"I'm hungry."_ After the last excuse, something about her stuffed monkey not wanting her to take a bath, Leslie got fed up and literally put Cassie in the bathtub, soaking her clothes. They're now hanging on a rack in the kitchen, the little drip drip sound being the only company to Leslie while she sketches out Miss Resident "I-Stuff-My-Cleavage-In-Boys-Faces" dress.

Cassidy Marie is the youngest sister of the three daughters that my mother and my father gave birth too. However, she wasn't the last. That's right. She wasn't. Before the "incident" happened almost a year ago, we had a little five year old brother, Keenan. Keenan was the cutest boy ever-he actually resembled me more than blondes Leslie and Cassie. Mum and Dad had were taking him to this "Kindergarten Orientation," where everyone was going to meet each other and talk about the rules in school and such. That was probably scary for shy Keenan.

It was a dark, raining night. However, scarier than Keenan's first meeting was the fact that they didn't come back. Ever.

_"Bzzt. Bzzt." _

The buzzing of my phone shook me from my depressing thoughts, and I pulled it from my pocket, while Cassie glanced up at me with her big, green eyes. I pulled the slim device from my (soaking) jeans pocket, and pressed a couple buttons, realizing that I had a new text. I was rather estatic, as no one ever sent me a text, which was one of the major cons when you didn't have any friends in one of the largest high schools in the vicinity.

_Hey there, Mitch. _

_xN _

I grinned at Nate's text and his "subtle" hug.

_Yello, Natey. _

_*Punch* _

There was no way I was sending a kiss back. I mean, I know that Nate's cute and all (they don't call him Fro Bro for nothing!) but he's just more brotherly than I'd considered. And I'd promised myself that I was just showing the "Brat Brothers" around the place and was in no way going to become attached. Although I was going against my word right now, texting Nate. And calling him Natey. I hoped Nate wouldn't take my emotions as romantic...

_OUCH! Jeez! Watch the fist, woman!_

_Texts are expencive, so I'm going to spill. Whatcha up to tomorrow? _

_xoxo Nate_

So much for trying "Not to become attached."

_Haha. Love you too, Nate. Anyways, I'm working in the backyard. And you can't even spare a couple cents for me? :( _

_xoxo*PUNCH* Mitch_

WAS I FLIRTING WITH NATE? God. I am doing some serious backing up with the "no flirting, no loving, absolutely no kissing the Gray Brothers" rule. I'd "technically" just kissed Nate, and I "technically" just flirted with him. Let's just hope that the kiss was a "sisterly" one.

_I have the all the cents that I need (in my brain, too.) :P SO muahahaha...Neways, Shane and I can drop by to help you tomorrow. :O _

_xoxo "Helpful and Charming" Nate_

I laughed, getting a kick out of the "Shane and I" part. It was going to be hilarious watching the "Ultimate Popstar of Our Time" doing some gardening work.

_Laughing at the garden kicking Shane's pretty-boy butt ;P Kay, g2g. Lil' Sis having some trouble with her bathtime :D _

_xoxo "Wondefully Wet" Mitchie. _

I snapped the phone shut, grinning. Now that I'd mentioned gardening, I should get started around the cleanup of the area so that it wouldn't look like a major mess. I pulled Cassie out of the bathtub, drying her off, and sent her to her room as I grabbed my gloves and my watering can. I noticed that the sky was a dark india ink colour as I walked outside, the silence almost scaring me.

And then I heard the definite strum of a guitar.

___________________________________________

_Shane Gray_

_September 10th, 11:45_

_Seaforth Street_

_House/Mansion #1_

_-_

_I'll make every second count  
cause I miss you, whenever you're not around..._

_-_

The house wasn't quite silent yet. As the building was fairly loud, pretty much every sound amplified and echoed in the hallway. Especially the sound of a guitar. I could hear Nate toying around with his phone in the room next to mine (which is rather inhuman, if you asked me, since a phone could really not be louder than a couple of decibels) and mum and dad downstairs, watching The Exorcist or something with enough screaming for a lifetime.

I quickly slipped on a jacket and gently pulled at my guitar, trying to make as little noise as possible. I tugged open a door, and stepped outside, the cool breeze whipping my face and the silvery moon reflecting in my hazel eyes. I sat on an old armchair that I'd lugged onto the balcony a while ago, and then my fingers ran over the fingerboard, my eyes closed, and I was in Heaven.

_You're the missing piece I need, the song inside of me..._

You could say that I was a huge chicken once you knew the reason behind sneaking out at almost twelve in the evening to play my guitar. You could also say that I was scared, scared to play in front of others because I was ashamed. You could say both of those reasons because they're true. They're completly true, and even I'm admitting it. I'm scared to let people know that I like this kind of music, and not the screaming/shouting mix that Connect Three is used to playing.

But who would like this music? Probably no one. We were used to doing the Slash/Van Halen guitar solos and rock/pop music, not girly "soft" "80's rock" music. Of course, I had tried to change our sound once. It was a while ago, when I sung to our producer. He didn't encourage it, saying that this song could possibly be the downfall of Connect Three, and that was it. Nothing else. Nothing like "That new tune is interesting." Just a flat out "no," and this was coming from our producer who loved us to bits.

I opened my eyes and quickly scanned Mitchie's house. Hey, it wasn't my fault that my balcony was adjacent to a "pretty, yet unreachable" girl's home. That's when I saw a shadowy figure lying on the grass, head tilted and listening to my music. Was that-was that Mitchie? As soon as she had seen me, she quickly ducked and ran back into the house, hoping and praying that I'd hadn't spotted her.

Mitchie. Mitchie Torres.

_An utterly intoxicating and beautiful mystery._

___________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 11, 4:00 PM_

_Seaforth Street_

_House #2_

_"So here are the gloves, and you put them over your hands, Shane, not on your nose." _

_"Who said I was going to do that?" _

_"Guilty. I told Mitchie about your incident a couple years ago."_

_"THAT WAS WHEN I WAS FIVE!!! I was trying to be Elephant Man! NATE!!!" _

_"Stop being mean to Joseph Carey Merrick, Shane. He's just got a deformity and his nose is flat, not long." _

_"Okay, Mom!"_

Shane stepped over the rocks and wrinkled his nose in disgust at a cluster of weeds surrounding a couple of my tulips. "Yuck. I can't believe you like gardening, Bitch. It's literally torture for white skinny jeans!" I laughed and groaned softly at his exclamation (and his nickname for me) while Nate smacked him on the back of his head. Shane was dressed in, well, white skinny jeans and he looked utterly out of place in my garden. Nate skipped the apron I'd let him borrow, as he wasn't quite fond of the Martha Stewart style.

I leaned down to water some other flowers while walked around, glaring at each plant as if he was mad that they were there to attack his poor clothes. Nate was trying to pull a weed out, but ended up pulling the choppy leaves while the stem stuck up, like a stake protruding from the ground.

I laughed. "Guess this isn't really working out for you guys, huh?" Nate grinned sheepishly while Shane glared at me, probably still pissed at our encounter yesterday (which was no surprise, as his "colourful language" had still stuck) was now even more pissed at the fact that Nate had dragged him here to take care of my precious plants. "Is not working out? Dirt and white jeans are like you and me, Mitch!"I was about to snark back at him, when I realized that he had called me "Mitch" and not, for once, "Bitch." That was a complete and utter first-so strange, that, in fact Nate stopped gripping at a leafy stalk and gaped at him. "WHAT?" He now looked irritated and he was blushing, completly redefining the phrase "red as a tomato." Nate and I started laughing.

"First time that I've actually been called something decent!" I said, rubbing my dirty palms on my shorts. Shane crossed his arms and started grumbling about "_not being able to be polite without people being amazed._" Nate was shaking his head, his face brightly beaming a subtle smile. "Aw, we didn't mean to embarrass the little Shaney-Boo," I grinned, trying to knock off the tension starting to build up like a hazy cloud in front of us. The situation was now a_ tad_ awkward, and I retreated back into my little plants world, whilst everyone else did the same, trying to avoid each other's gazes. However, this seemed mostly like something between Shane and I-that something was going to change between us very soon.

___________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 11, 11:45 PM_

_Seaforth Street_

_Backyard of House #2_

_-_

_-_

_When I was young, I'd listen to the radio,_

_Waiting for my favourite song,_

_When they played I'll sing along,_

_It made me smile...._

_-_

I kissed Cassie's head gently, looking at her for a couple seconds, taking in my wonderful little sister who looked quite at peace lying on the bed. It also scared me a little, knowing that perhaps my mother and father looked like that, lying on the car seats, blank, listless emotions plastered on their faces. The screaming that left me, the drop of the phone clattering on the linoleum floor, and the drop of my weak body...

_"Miss, your mother and your father have been the victims of a...terrible car crash down on Highway #2." _

_"What?"_

_"They...I'm sorry. They will not wake." _

_"Mother? Father? Where are, you mother? Father? MOTHER! FATHER! COME BACK!" _

I shook the past memory away. I was scared and not ready to think back to it. I was now huddled on the couch, my heart racing, and my arms wrapped around my legs that I'd pulled up to my chest. I think I was almost crying at this point-who wouldn't, when they'd had to endure the pain of their seeing their own parents, slumped, with the life taken out of them by a stupid drunk? I was lost after I'd lost them, since I had always taken them for granted and never thought about them twice. I suddenly felt something falling from my eyes as the result of remembering. I touched my cheeks and found drops of water left on them, the salty tears staining almost down to my chin. Once I'd gathered some tissues, I was about to head to the freezer to check if there was any ice cream to binge on. My hand had already touched the vinyl surface of the handle, when I heard _it _again.

I grabbed a jacket, but made sure to take extra precautions on the boy who was best friends with his guitar. This time, when I listened to Shane strumming away on his guitar, I'd make sure I was more careful. I have an apple tree in my backyard, and I'd decided at once that I would shelter under there, where Shane couldn't possibly see me. As I heard his notes, they seemed to soothe me, but they also seemed nearer than usual. As I mused, once again, about what happened while gardening, a thought struck my brain.

_Could he really have finally identified me as a real, normal person?_

No. That was undeniably impossible. Shane would never, ever treat me differently than the way that we were to each other now-it just wasn't in his "List of Rockstar Things to Do." That could never be true-Shane was such a jerk, an inflamed egomanic that he would never have the care to think about some small town girl who used to adore him.

But when I opened the door and crashed, leaning on my apple tree, all my doubts were erased. Shane Gray knew the whole time.

___________________________________________

-

**_Haha. I wrote this a while ago, but I just didn't post it up. ;) So, anyways, there are two songs in here-can you list them? If you can list both songs correct, YOU GET A WHOLE CHAPTER DEVOTED TO YOURSELF!!!!!! (Is that even very exciting? I'm very bad at prizes =.= And if you bother to guess, you get a cookie or a cupcake. :D SO YAY!) Please list as song #1 and song #2!!!!!!! _**

**_HAHA. I can't help giving you a hint!!! The first song is by FABER DRIVE...Is it helping? :) Also, no, you don't have to guess Gotta Find You (HAHAHA. Obviously everyone knows that it's Gotta Find You.) ALSO, this chappy has a cliffy (Which most of you might be unhappy about, haha) and it's the longest, I think, at 3,600 words! YAY! _**


	3. Chapter 3

**OH. EM. GEE.**

I forgot the disclaimer for my story. Wow, I bet that Disney's lawyers are very pissed. So, I am writing it right now. But before I do, I just want to tell the Attorneys at Law that I loved the Wizards movie and the Star-Trekish costumes for Alex and Justin. I also liked Justin's grey hat and just Max in general and...Okay. Fine. I don't own anything but plot or the awesome Backstreet Boys song I Just Want You to Know WHICH IS ON JOE JONAS' IPHONE. :P

_Which is very sad. :'( But the Wizards movies was good! (It was sorta...Indiana Jones-ish. Minus the fedora hat :)_

**SHOUTOUTS**

NOW, this chapter is dedicated to the brilliant **xx-juliaaa **because she guessed the songs correctly! Yesterday Once More-Carpenters, and When I'm With You-Faber Drive. You didn't use google, did you, J? ;) Secondly, for **sk8tergrl700**, your word is perfectly _fantabulous _and I _adore _it!

For the lovely** TheSunday, **thank you for being one of my best commenters! If you ever write a fanfic, I will make sure to review just as much. Thirdly, to the AWESOME **WeCan'tStopTheWorld, **I shall give you a million bajillion thank yous!!! THANK YOUUUUUU!!!!!!! And I have no idea what my writing style quite is yet :O

Jai est terrible an francais, Missus_ **Ceecile.** _(I don't even think I GOT that right.) I can't even tell the difference between the accents. Boo. And lastly but not leastly (I don't think that's a real word) to **mgallion, **for being the first person who reviewed on this chapter. THANK YOU!!!!

-

**And thank you to everyone else for reviewing and making my day better. :D**

**Also, as a last request, I'm just wondering if you like MITCHIE'S POV better, or SHANE'S. Haha. If you like them both, then I know I've done my job. :) **

-

The Secret Garden

-

_If I meet more than your eye  
I guess you're right  
If I wake up in your mind  
I guess you're right..._

_I Guess You're Right-**The Posies**_

_"We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun." _

_Seasons in the Sun-**Terry Jacks**_

_-_

_Shane_

_There is something dreadfully wrong with her. Not as in physically wrong, as in a fracture or a terminal disease. No, nothing like that. Instead, from what I feel and think, she has no problem. She's a dazzling star that shines so bright in the dark sky, the moon hanging like a ghost in the breezy, cold air. But I can tell, from the look in her eyes and the way that she's so protective over her siblings-something emotionally wrong is killing her. She doesn't notice it, but it's there. No one can ignore it, but no one can really save her. _

_So that's where I come in. _

_I'm intrigued by her. _

_She is so different from every girl I have met, every girl that I've come across in my lifeline of fame and glory. She doesn't know it, but she's beautiful. She's modest and caring, but she builds a defence around her in order to ward from other people. Because she's scared, scared of rejection. She feels that no one will be there to save her, or that no one even cares. But there is someone. And, perhaps, it's me. Because she has something I want that I never knew I could have-Love. She holds my heart. And I'll admit it now, because I think I'll deny it later on. But who cares? I know that this is frightfully cheesy-I'm twenty, I'm rich and good-looking, and here I am, thinking about love._

_I think that she can cure me because I have seen her. That night, the night when she was spying on me, it filled me with hope. Hope of a new change-for me both and for her. Of course, who knows if she'll accept me? She's so faraway, and her mind always seems to be lost about something else, like she's too busy to interact socially. I've seen them at school-the popular girls envy her of her natural beauty, the way that she doesn't need makeup to impressionate herself on others. The boys shoot quick glances at her when she's not watching, because she's just so damn pretty. But everyone always avoids her because she makes them-she gives an air of "Back off, Bitch." _

_I want to save her so bad, my heart aches. It doesn't just ache of that, though. It aches because I don't know if she'll accept me. I don't know if she'll love me back. And I don't know if she believes that she can do anything to this stupid popstar-even though she's already mesmerized me._

_Mitchie,_

_You hold my heart. _

_-_

___________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 11, 11:47 PM_

_Seaforth Street_

_Backyard of House #2_

_-_

_Mitchie_

Shane Gray knew the whole time that I'd been watching him, and that I'd been spying at him from a distance in my backyard. He saw me as I ran, frightened, into the house, begging and pleading that he hadn't seen me. I would have been embarrassed as hell, and it wouldn't have done any good to his already inflamed ego. But of course, he catches everything with those hazel eyes of his. And now that he knows I make little trips for "Shane Solos" in the dark of the night, he's turned the tables by already sitting at the apple tree in my backyard, his fingers flying quietly over the strings and frets of his guitar.

_"Hello."_

His smooth voice cuts like a knife in the inky silence, and I mentally decide that I'm going to try to evade this confrontation. I try calculating how fast I can get to the door and lock it to soothe me, but before my brain gets into gear, my legs snap as if they have a mind all own their own, and I'm dashing like a champion track athlete to my front door. Ironic that even my own backyard, filled to the brim with my lush plants, isn't safe from the most asshole of a celebrity that the world has ever known."Mitchie, please."His fingers are gripped so tightly on my arm that even a crowbar would cry having to pry them off. The sadness and agony in his eyes, and also the fact that he's adressed me properly makes me halt in a sudden stop, which actually surprises the singer. His hand quickly jerks off of my arm and falls to the back of his neck as he rubs it nervously.

_Shane Gray, the guy of every girl's dreams, is nervous in front of me, a small town girl. _

_Wow._

My eyes looks to everywhere but him, and the world is spinning, and, strangely everything just feels so, _so right. _As if meeting together at almost the stroke of midnight in a normal girl's garden whilst the other party is a teen sensation who is breaking records here and there is completly normal and happens everyday. Brown meets hazel as I stare at him, trying to look unaffected by his gaze. His eyes trail off to the ground now, and we're standing, quietly on the grass, both embarrassed._"How do you know?" _It's my turn to break the uncomfortable silence that hangs in the air. I finally notice that he has a guitar strapped on his back. It's beautiful, like a piece of priceless art. He catches me staring at it, and instead of answering my question, he brings his hands to take the strap off and hands it over to me. I take it, wide-eyed, and I guess he expects me to play for him. Shane Gray, the boy who can honestly say that he is a professional singer, is asking me, a girl with almost no music talent, to play.

_Okay. That's a lie._

I used to take guitar lessons all the time. It was my passion, my hobby, and my parents really got a kick out of it since my father used to play the guitar with the school band. I was thrilled to learn that I got the hang of it almost instantly, as if music was pretty much in my blood. But I couldn't. I couldn't play ever again, after seeing my mother and father pass away. It made them so happy to know that they had a daughter who loved music almost as much as they did, but after their death, I drowned everything out. Ipods, CDs, even the dusty old gramophone that sat in the corner and provided entertainment for my mother.

I nod no, but Shane shakes his head firmly. I sigh, sitting by the apple tree again, but this time, I have a guitar in my hand. A guitar that belongs to Shane Gray. Most girls would probably die at this point, and, I'll agree with them, except for the fact that I'm probably going to knock on heavan's door under the circumstances of humiliation. "Oh, alright." I give in, since Shane is so persistant, and also because if I don't now, he'll probably ask me in front of Nate or Jason later. No point in having a bigger audience if it's avoidable, right?

_"This is real, this is me..."_

I hate this. I hate, completely detest, loathe, and abhorr this. This is completely unfair, because of all the girls he could choose to play on his six string he had to choose me. I hate the spotlight, I hate Shane Gray, and I especially hate being the spotlight in front of Shane Gray. What if I'm terrible? This is probably the easiest way to embarrass yourself in front of a singing sensation, and here I am, Mitchie Torres, doing exactly that. The wierdest thing, however, is that he doesn't look like he hates it. The world must be crumbling to its end, because Shane is actually, well, _smiling_. He looks at peace, his hands behind his head, his body lying calmly on the grass, and his eyes closed off to the world.

_He actually looks like a normal guy just wanting to play his music. _

_________________________________________

_Shane Gray_

_September 11, 12:05 PM_

_Seaforth Street_

_Backyard of House #2_

_-_

When I was twelve, which was eight years ago, I had Mom, Dad, Jase, and Nate. It was a small family, but it sure was enough. Jase, Nate, and I would always run out and try to pick the apples from the neighbour's apple trees or ride the cows that belonged to the local farmer when he wasn't aware. As others before me recall that simple pleasures are often the best, it was true in this example. I was a kid that got giddy by traditions and games that had nothing to do with materialism. And that was probably one of the things about myself that I was the most proud of.

_And then I met "Uncle" Brown._

Uncle Brown was my grandfather's step-brother's step-son. He owned a small camp lodged in the confines of nowhere and he dubbed it "Camp Rock." Of course, since advertising was expencive and, well, the camp was disguised by miles and miles of trees, there weren't many campers interested in it. However, for me and my three brothers, it was perfect-there were trees to climb, squirrels to scare, and traps to set. Thus it became our weekend getaway, and for our first time, Uncle Brown said that he had a big surprise for us. Of course, we were ready to piss in our pants. No one ever showered us with anything, even on our birthdays. There were three of us and money was clearly very tight in our family. But when we arrived to the camp the next day, our surprise was a little different than we had expected. Our big gift was music lessons with Uncle Brown.

We were utterly disgusted. Music lessons? Who cared about music? Our family couldn't afford anything musical, other than the books, and even that would eat up their whole wallet. We wanted to run out and scream our asses off and go fishing with our bare hands, not listen to Uncle Brown ramble on about music. But Brown wouldn't let us go and instead struck a deal with us-instead of spending the whole weekend doing lessons with him, he'd let us have the whole day to ourselves, as long as two hours were spent with him and his Gibson. We agreed instantly, knowing that this was probably the best deal we could worm out of our Uncle. For the first weekend, we listened as patiently as possible, making sure that Brown wouldn't see our little fidgets. But then Uncle Brown started to _sing. _When Brown sings, its like a Kurt Cobain croon with the range of Steven Tyler. It's amazing, really, and everyone can't help but to stop and listen to him.

I mean, damn, the guy can seriously belt out a tune like crazy, and that's no exaggeration. After that, we were obsessed with trying to contort our voices to Brown's level, and there was no such thing as partying out in the woods anymore-there was only music in our minds for the rest of the small trips in Brown's camp. However, the thing we most admired about Brown, next to his voice, was his songs. God, he was a brilliant songwriter, and could write everything from electropop to folk.

But our particular favourites were ones from the soul, ones with meanings deeper than the person next door could ever figure out. We couldn't care about the lesser, shallow songs that made up the current industry. All that was lost when we got our record deal. There was no such thing as saving yourself for marriage or abstinence in the celebrity lifestyle, much less "soulful" and "realistic" songs. Those attributes were laughed upon by the others who would silently snicker behind your back. So I holed in, never letting any of my songs full of feeling into the outer world. There was no possibility that they would make it, and there was also the fact that my record manager and I were on a very thin line of a friendship as of the moment. Releasing my own songs was like treading on thin water-I was never going to make it.

_And then she sang. _

I knew there was something brilliant about her. She seemed like a singer who depended on a guitar as her best friend, and to prove it, when the guitar set in her hands, she was a natural. And she reminded me instantly of who I wanted to be-what I wanted to sing again, and it made me happy once again, reminding me of the little boy at so much peace back eight years ago. It felt like a memory from long ago-except that Mitchie Torres was what had triggered my muse, and I never, ever wanted her to stop playing.

_"So, how was it?"Her voice breaks the silence, and I stare at her. God, she's so beautiful. The guitar is left sitting rather restlessly on her lap, the last chord she'd played on it still echoing softly in the cool night air, and her brown eyes are filled with what looks like apprehension and nervousness. I want to tell her that there's no need to be nervous, but it'd just seem cheesy in this setting. Besides, it would probably make her think I was a freak and trying to hit on her (which was, technically, what I was trying to urge myself to do without any luck.) For the past couple of days, all we've been saying to each other is "Asshole," "Jerk," and "Bitch."_

_"It was amazing. You should really write more songs, Mitch." _

She grins at me, and my heart skips a beat. For once, I'd actually called her by her name, even if it was a shortened form. There was really only one thought racing around in my mind at this moment about her, and I hoped that it would turn into more.

Mitchie,

This could be the start of one beautiful friendship.

_________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 12, 1:00_

_Corner of Seaforth and Turner_

_Grant Hill High_

Math textbook? Check.

English textbook? Check.

Bag of steamed Carrots? Ew, but check.

Connect Three's new CD, Lines, Vines, and Trying Times? Check-

_WHAT?_

-

I almost choked on my carrots as I saw the disc, covered in plastic wrap, looking like brand-new from Wal-Mart or something. However, the wierdest thing was last time that I'd heard about Connect Three's albums, there was no such one called _Lines, Vines, and Trying Times. _The only title I was familiar with was _A Little Bit Longer. _And then I realized that the CD was signed on the back, in a certain jerky popstar's messy scrawl that was slanted all over the song "Hey Baby." I blushed at the not-so-subtle indication of a song Shane wanted me to listen to, and also at the message.

_Mitch,_

_ Here's to you! Our latest album which hasn't been released yet. Watch out for fangirls, and think of me when you are writing those amazing songs of yours. DON'T STOP EVER!!!_

_Love,_

___ Shane._

I think it was the "Love" part that really ticked me off, and also the fact that he chose me again to shower in his "special services." I didn't want the stupid album anyways, and now I'd have a whole damn trail of preppy, bitchy little fan girls who would follow me the whole day to get the album. I suddenly realized that I could bribe the girls with this CD for anything that I wanted, and I started dreaming up a whole list of requests and demands for them. As I slammed the locker door with a clatter and left to grab my lunch, I swore I saw a very unmistakable celebrity watching me from a corner of the hallway.

_"Just to let anyone know, I think that sunglasses are awesome but not so great as spying disguises, and I have no idea why a CD is in my locker." _

With that, I grinned, satisfied, and turned on my heel, missing Shane's reaction but already imagining it, and headed to the canteen. There must be something to eat there that was a lot better than my steamed carrots, at the most. However, when I stepped into the canteen, I suddenly halted. There was a whole line of girls already waiting at the front door, and when I entered, they all started screaming my name.

_What? _

Okay, firstly, I have never been in the popular crowd (much less had a best friend.) And of these girls, most of them were cheerleaders, student council members, or just girls who were thoroughly well-known in the school. I swear, I think I saw a flash of a tall blonde head somewhere that spelled "Princess." There was no way that these girls could have heard or seen of my existence unless-_"Oh, are you guys lining up on this fine day to get my copy of Lines, Vines, and Trying Times two weeks before release and signed by frontman Shane Gray?_" Once I asked, they seemed to be drooling, some girls even nodding their heads up and down as if in a stance. Well, jeez, after this, I realized that I had never really known how big Connect Three was in the music economy. They must be Disney's favourite advertisements-with millions and millions of dollars clocking in from the just as much fans almost everyday.

So when the line parted suddenly, I grabbed my bag and unzipped it, holding up the copy and waving it in front of their faces. Everyone was now looking wistfully at me, but they also had some sort of fear in their eyes, and I suddenly knew why as one Resident Bitch came up to me and smiled menacingly. "Hello Mitchie." Her cherry red lips were now terse and her blue eyes hard as steel. Rage flew in me as I knew Chelsea's full intentions-she just expected me to hand over the disc because she'd adressed me for once, which was certainly a big deal in Grant Hill.

_No. Shitting. Way. _

"Hey there Chelsea. Come for your own copy?" Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Mitchie, hand it over." Her hot-pink nails tapped impatiently as she waited, thinking that she was "Queen of the World" and that Mitchie Torres had finally "bowed down" to her wonderful schemes. _Yeah right, Princess. __"_Sorry, Chelsea. I've run out of them." I sighed as fake and loud as possible, batting my eyelashes at Chelsea and giving her a sad smile. By now, everybody's gaze was pinned to us, and saying that Chelsea wasn't happy was an understatement. 

"Hand it over, Mitchie," she seethed, her face leaning in closer proximity by the second. As a boy walked past with a tray full of food, I grabbed a bottle of pop off of it and held it firmly in my hands as I stared down Chelsea. "Phew, what's that? All I can think about is that you might just want to take bath-your stink is really bad." And with that, I shook the pop as hard as possible and twisted the cap off, turning it so that the opening of the bottle was now right above Chelsea's bleached head. I gave a quick look over at Shane as the pop foamed over Chelsea, drowning out her screams, and I think he was grinning at the way I handled this.

_________________________________________

**Do I hear Smitchie already? WHOOOOHOOOO!!!! I have another chapter idea already, which is yay yay yay!!! Haha. Anyways, I'll try to post the next one up tomorrow (there's no WAY I could post it tonight :( I hoped you like this one, even though it's sort of short because the intro is like, super long. Haha. **


	4. Chapter 4

Just because I'm really excited to write this chapter, I've decided to keep the intro at a minimum, which is proving to be quite difficult, as of fact, because it is a known fact that I am a HUGE rambler. Blah blah blah: That's all that comes out of my mouth. These days, I'm going to have to buy a human muzzle to stop my talkative manner. ;) Anyways, I just wanted to say that **thispage is dedicated to The Sunday,** because she never ceases to amaze me with her devotion to this fanfiction. Thank you, **TheSunday,**and I owe you tons!!!!

Oh, and just as a fact: My best reviewers will have a page dedicated to them, so watch out for your penname coming up soon to a computer near you!!! YAY!!!! ;D Also, does anyone know the big deal of Twilight VS Vampire Diaries? I pretty much gave up on vampires after Twilight (I'll explain if asked) but my friend still has a major attachment to both. Hmmmm....

Other than that, I'm all hyped up and here is the fourth chapter! YAY!

**IMPORTANT NOTICES:**

**Has anyone noticed glitches in Fanfiction? Some numbers, such as reviews or chapters, aren't showing properly and take a while to show up. I noticed this while looking at a live preview of my story and scanning my reviews. Just saying, though. Maybe your computer isn't as beat up as mine ;)**

**Secondly, I will not be writing any more chapters until next week because I'm going camping! YAY!!!! Who here is a camping freak? So this is the last chapter for now, and I've made it extra long just for you guys!!!!**

**Thirdly, watching David Hasselhoff "entertaining" sort of scares me. AMERICA'S GOT TALENT!!! **

---_Mitchie doesn't know what she's in for---_

The Secret Garden

-

_I don't know you  
But I want you  
All the more for that  
Words fall through me  
And always fool me..._

_Falling Slowly-**Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova**_

**_-_**

_Shane_

_Girls fall so quick for me. It's not a matter of whether I like it or not, it just happens. They'll do, naturally, anything to hang out with me for a day or even five minutes. The extent of the thing that they want me to do doesn't matter because they're so infatuated with my persona. But that's it. My persona is the key thing that they want, and other than that, nothing else. So when I hung out with a couple fangirls whom won a contest provided by my record label, it was no surprise that they were completely ecstatic. "GOD, IT'S SHANE GRAY!" and "PINCH ME SO I CAN TELL THIS IS REAL!" are often common phrases that I hear when they're in my presence. I suppose that it's flattering, of course, but what they're really in love with is my image._

_The fangirls were immensely disappointed when they realized that my idea of an outing with them was crashing at home, the Xbox controller stuck in my hands, and one of the Halo games stuck into the slot. In the end, I had lost five fans and earned the company of their brothers, along with a popcorn-and-pop covered home._

_I guess that I'm used to disappointing people. I've disappointed my mother and father, for ending becoming the "black sheep" of the family. And then I've disappointed Jason, for not making him a birdhouse. I've also disappointed Nate, because I'd always wig out on the reporters and paparazzi even when they'd never done anything but ask a mere question on my favourite preferences. It was always Shane Gray, Diva, and that was never, ever a good thing. I was pretty much ruined and corrupted by the media. However, I knew that I couldn't blame it just on the entertainment world-part of it was my fault too, as I was always stopping at bars to have a drink, taking advantage of drunken girls or throwing major tantrums at ordinary people for no reason._

_But I want to change. I want to change so damn bad. And the perfect person to change for is Mitchie. She knows I was an ass, but she's never quite seen it. Except for that rant a couple days ago, but that was quite little to what I'd usually done in front of producers and other band members. I want to show her that I'm just another good person out there in the world and that I have changed. There's a saying that implies showing off how good you are just means that you are not good at all. Of course, that's a good philosophy, but it's not always like that. And in my case, it's completely false._

_I'm going to make it up to her, I swear. I'm going to take Mitchie out on a date. And it won't be Mitchie anymore, it'll be my Mitchie. Or Mitch. Whatever she likes more._

_____________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 12, 1:05_

_Corner of Seaforth and Turner_

_Grant Hill High_

As my eyes flickered over to Shane's, getting his "snicker of approval," the coke let down with a hiss and foamed all over the Resident Bitch, while some girls looked in awe as I took down the Queen of Mean. I was grinning like there was no tomorrow, really, as the brown liquid tumbled down Chelsea's locks, which now looked like the result of a volcano experiment gone human or something. It was a picture perfect moment with the best soundtrack a person could listen too-people actually laughing and pointing at the Queen and dissing her badly. I'd used to think that Chelsea's remarks were snide and rude, but, compared to the whole cafeteria's chatter and gossip, her sarcasm was tame.

Suddenly, Principal Graham walked by, and oh, was I ever in for it. Everybody quickly sat down, and as I looked back at Shane, I saw him motioning for me to sit down and discard of the pop bottle as soon as possible. But I decided that I'd rather get in trouble. Leslie would completly spaz, of course, pulling out the "_this was not what mother and father raised you to be"_ card and try to make me instantly guilty. However, it was all going to be worth it, because my detention would just remind Chelsea of the rather, _unfortunate _incident that happened today.

And, besides, it would also show everyone else that Chelsea wasn't the only one with power here. I, a normal girl, could do just about everything to piss the blonde and all I'd get was detent-

_"Miss Torres, why on earth is Miss Reimer soaked in soda?"_

All eyes were trained on me now, and the principal, with his windblown, scruffy brown hair, had made it seem like his goal in life to bore his green eyes into mine. His gaze left for a second to take a glance on the pop bottle, and I knew that he had already put two and two together but wanted me to admit it.

_"I took my shaken soda and poured it on her."_

That was a small summary of what had just happened in the past, glorious and amazing five minutes. I didn't care anymore-_bring it on, Graham! _He actually looked a little confused at my honesty, knowing that an ordinary kid would have already confiscated of the evidence and deny it flat out, while everybody was still staring at me in shock. Some actually had the look of respect and astonishment, knowing that what I did had guts. I mean, for the rest of my life, I'd probably be the target of Chelsea and her Clonesand that was no laughing matter.

_"Office, Miss Torres."_

I walked in step with him to the office as I gave one last grin at Chelsea and waved a goodbye. My ears were suddenly drowned with the sound of applause and cheering-it seemed that_Miss Reimer_ was indeed not quite as popular as everyone else had portrayed her to be. Well, that was good. I could probably start an I-Hate-Bitches club after school, informing everyone who the Bitches were, and adding emphasis on Chelsea. As I was looking back, I my eyes flickered to Shane again, and out of respect, he gave me a little miltary salute and a thumbs up, signifying his approval.

I don't know if something's gone wrong, because I just realized that the whole time the scene had played out, my eyes were mostly fixed to Shane. Why did I give him so many glances, and why did I even care what he thought of what I'd just did? _He's a jerk, Mitchie. An ass. So don't play the cozy and nice way in front of him! _However, no matter what I tried to tell myself, I couldn't make myself say that I hated him. I mean, he was sweet, nice, and kind to drop that CD off into my locker. It must have taken an effort to bribe his producers to let him have a copy of his album two weeks beforehand. There must have been a lot of hassling over it and he'd done it the whole time just for me-

OHMYGOSH.

What am I saying?

_I hate Shane Gray. I hate Shane Gray. Repeat mantra until it works._

_____________________________________________

_Shane Gray_

_September 12, 1:05_

_Corner of Seaforth and Turner_

_Grant Hill High_

I'm standing in front of the principal's office, waiting for the verdict on Mitchie's punishment. Okay, so I don't quite need to look after her, but I just feel like it's something I should do. I mean, I half encouraged her to go for it and bash Chelsea as I was actually pretty fed up with her trailing like a little puppy dog after my heels. Nothing's the same after a girl tries to thrust herself over to you-it's disgusting, really. The door creaks open and Mitchie comes out, except she's not grinning. Well, of course she isn't, but knowing Mitchie, she'd been grinning because she just dissed Chelsea (bad) and if all she'd get was a week of detention she wouldn't really care. Maybe-_oh shit. What if she got suspended or expelled?_

_"What did Graham give you?"_

She looks completly crestfallen and beat up, and she shakes her head back and forth. "I don't want to talk about it," she mumbles. "Damn. You got suspended? Or expelled?" My voice was a notch higher than before and this time I was pretty worried. All she did was dump soda on Chelsea. And Chelsea deserved that-she probably deserved even more, to tell you the truth. "I, I got-" She stuttered a bit, and my hands balled into fists. _Why did I even give a damn? God, Shane, stop feeling angry! It's not your problem, it's hers, and she's a huge bitch!_

"I got a weeks' detention!" She cried, laughing and then hugging me. I instantly reacted back by wrapping my arm around her-it was so interesting to see how her figure molded into mine-_SHANE!!! _Suddenly she pulled back, realizing what she'd just been doing. "Sorry...Teenage hormones..." She laughed sheepishly, her smile now turning into a teasing cringe. "Well, um, see you then." She turns around, but before she walks away from the hallway we were in, I shout "Mitch," which makes her promptly turn around and stare at me quizically.

"_What?"_

She asks rather timidly than that of before and I smile reassuringly, wanting her to know that she's still my, er, "Bitch," if that makes her feel better in any way. "Meet me at the field after school tomorrow. You'll be back home by ten." And then I run down the corner, not wanting to hear whether she'll deny my request or accept it. Once my legs start to burn and my lungs start heaving, I grin and run down the corridor, whooping. Because I, Shane Gray, have officially conquered the impossible-

_I have just asked Mitchie Torres on a date._

_____________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 13, 3:05_

_Corner of Seaforth and Turner_

_Grant Hill High field_

Grant Hill High

The whole night, all I've been thinking about is what Shane had just implied. Formally, it would be considered a date, but there was no way that Shane and I were anywhere further than acquaintances. No way. I mean, it was alright to move on to being friends, but anywhere and that's crossing enemy lines. Or, in this case, "famous celebrity lines." However, the stupid jerk of a popstar was pretty smart-he'd known the whole time that there was no way I could resist hauling my butt down the field, which is exactly what I'm doing right now. In case that Shane was watching, I made sure to tromp as un-ladylike as possible on the lush green turf.I wasn't surprised to see Shane, arms crossed across his chest, his rather dreary gray tee shirt standing out amongst all the pink-clad girls surrounding him. Just that picture made me feel a lot better-especially the face he had on just for the occasion. As I trekked down the little hill, Shane started mouthing _help me! _I showed that I wasn't happy about this "date" by completely ignoring him and setting myself down by a tree. I leaned against it and enjoyed the show, wishing I had some popcorn with me.

The girls were now begging him for an autograph, and I was chuckling in hysterics as Chelsea was doing her chest thing harder than ever. As I snickered into my sweater, a boy came by and sat beside me, staring at me with his amazing grey eyes-eyes like the ocean on an overcast day.

_"Hi. I'm Bradley."_

I briefly scanned Bradley's tall, beach-boy profile, complete with sun-kissed blonde hair and tanned skin. He was 6'2 of absolute gorgeousness. "Hi Bradley. I'm Mitchie." He held out his hand for a handshake and I shook it gently before bringing it back over my messenger bag. "_I just wanted to say that what you did to Chelsea today was pretty, well, brave." _I was instantly puzzled by his compliment. From Bradley's look (and yes, I know not to judge a book by his cover, but I couldn't help but jump to conclusions) he was probably one of the Bitches' boyfriends or something. "Oh, well, um, thanks." The note of pride coursed through my voice, and I hoped that he wouldn't have caught it. Just then, Shane picked the perfect time to bring himself over. He slumped against the tree and literally fell over, gasping.

_ "THANKS FOR THE HELP." _He half-yelled, breathing heavily. I could see the girls in the distance, not willing to come over in case I'd throw some wet substance on them. Bradley suddenly looked over at Shane and patted him on the back. "Hey man." Shane turned his hazel eyes over to him and looked back at me. _"Hey Bradley. Sup? Mitchie, I guess you've met my best mate, Bradley."_ Bradley nodded proudly and I felt like gagging, thinking that it was a waste he was hanging out with the king of jerks.

But then Shane also had his good points too, so, then again, I couldn't blame Bradley. Shane was kind and generous, especially because he'd been willing to "take me out" and he was like my emotional supporter or whatever and…MITCHIE! I felt like hitting myself for even thinking about Shane's good points. _"Sorry Bradley, me and Mitch have gotta bounce." _Shane stood up, knocking knuckles to his lackey, and I slung my bag around my shoulder while Bradley turned to give me a wink. I blushed and waved back, and then turned to see Shane staring at the spot where Bradley had just taken.

_ "Come on, Mitch."_ He sighed. He strode briskly over to the parking lot and pulled out his keys, pressing a button. I saw his car come into view and gasped-it was a JAG. And not just any Jag, mind you, it was a sparkling, shiny, brand-new, custom XJ Vanden Plas-a bulkier replica of a certain Jonas Brother's ride in the music video of Paranoid. _"OH. MY. GOSH."_ I jumped up and down, squealing like a little girl. My father might own a hardware store, but that didn't mean that he was tight with the mechanics in the company. He loved cars-they were like his babies and he was saving up for a mint-condition, rebuilt, fire engine red Bel Air from Chicago. And since I was five, all he'd been rambling on about were cars, cars, and cars.

"What's the big deal?" He shrugged, opening the door for me, and I cushioned myself into a buttery leather seat. _"What's the big deal? Do you know this car cost over the amount my mother used to start her catering company?"_ I was now running my hands on the laminated dashboard and Shane rolled his eyes at me._ "Whatever. Now, sit still." _He was grinning now, and my face proposed the perfect look of horror as I realized what he was going to do. _"We're not going for a joyride, are we Shane?" _

_"You scared?"_

___________________________________________

**Sorry this is so short, guys, but since I am heading to Oregon I will not be posting anything up until NEXT WEEK. So enjoy this one, and remember-the next chapter is THE DATE. YAY YAY YAY. **


	5. Chapter 5

So I come back from my trip and I score NINE reviews. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? Well, I can't. So now I have to thank the wonderful people who have been so kind to review this time. YAY YAY YAY.

Firstly, this chapter is dedicated to** xx-juliaaa **because her father is a Carpenters fan (HAHA. Joking. And your father drills the song too? SAME HERE. Now I'm completely obsessed.) I love your long comments (It's so nice you take the time to type like crazy for my story!!!) And I can't thank you enough for writing two of them. THANK YOU!!!! (haha.) WATCH OUT FOR YOUR PENNAME ON CHAPTER SIX!!!!Secondly, I wanted to thank **abnormally-sweet-person** for giving me so many awesome hints and pointers. The reason why I haven't included Caitlyn in yet is, well, because, I don't really know why. I'll probably make sure that Mitchie meets her at school or something…And yes, I've been having trouble with my line breaks because sometimes the story is very hard on the eyes. It's true, and I'm working crazy on it.

Thirdly, thanks to **TheSunday** for being my best reviewer. She deserves a dedication for every chapter because she always comments on every single one!!! Thank you tons, TheSunday, and you have no idea how much I enjoy your comments! And no, I did NOT get eaten by a mountain lion, but thank you for warning me. Also, this chapter is extra long because EVERYONE has been waiting for SO FREAKING LONG!!!

**Cookies and Cupcakes **

_CatchTheRainbow_

_.x_

_SeleneLunaMoon_

_Thank you everyone and watch out for CHAPTER SIX, coming to a computer near you (after this one. Heehee.) _

**MPORTANT NOTICES:**

**This is a far cry from important, but I just wanted to say that nail polish remover is AMAZING and that scratching the polish off makes your fingernail look, well, deranged. That is if fingernails can look deranged in the first place. That is all. **

**Also, the reasons why I haven't updated is because school is actually stressing me out, as we just started on Tuesday and we're sorted into our new classes on MONDAY. So, that means that we have to wait a week and nerves are seriously building up. **

The Secret Garden

_-_

_If I could say what I want to say__  
I'd say I wanna blow you - away  
Be with you every night  
Am I squeezing you too tight  
If I could say what I want to see  
I want to see you go down  
On one knee  
Marry me today…_

_Things I'll Never Say-Avril Lavigne_

**_-_**

_Shane_

_Mitchie. _

_The name is so informal and is much more like a nickname. When you hear it, you pity the poor person-her parents must have terrible taste in the category of names to give their child a name that rhymes with slang. "Bitchie," that is. And you also think that the child is a boy. Mitchie, Mitch-all names short for Mitchell. And to prove that Mitchell is therefore a boy name, another teen sensation/actor that I know is called Mitchel Musso. Isn't it funny how, perhaps, you think that this name is stupid and completely unjust to the child? You instantly relate this name to all the things mentioned-a boy, maybe even a Bitch? Well, yes, it is strange. However, it's just like when we use the word irrevocably-we instantly relate it to those black books about this vampire who falls in love with some female protagonist whom is too stubborn to let the vampire's strange habits pass in front of her eyes. _

_But now, when you get to know that person, you don't care that their name is seemingly all of those things. Nope, you take all that crap and throw it away, because now, you see that person as a beautiful flower, as a princess, as everything you've ever dreamed of. You dream of that person to be yours, to hold the person in the night when they cry, to be there for that person. To never let go and live a life of complete passion with that person. _

_When I hear her name, Mitchie, I think of that. _

_I think of her beside me. I get jealous when I see her with any other living male other that me. And I want to protect her because I know that she's not made out of steel-she's just another human and she needs a shoulder to lean on. But I also don't want to treat her like glass, because she's just as tough as she portrays her to be. I want her to love me. Really love me and treat me as her equal, as her "one in life." Now, you'd probably be calling me a hopeless romantic. _

_But if you think about it, perhaps you are exactly the same. Perhaps you like someone with the nerdiest name ever. Trust me, you won't think of "Alistair" the same way ever again. Or perhaps you like someone with a werewolfish name, such as "Jacob." You'll never think of full moons while you're with him for a long, long time. And I think it should just stay like that. Because this name, although quite plain and misleading doesn't seem like it anymore. Mitchie Torres isn't just Mitchie Torres to me anymore, because I think it's a beautiful name. _

_And also because it seems to fit perfectly with Shane Gray. _

_____________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 12, 1:05_

_Shane Gray's Jaguar_

_"Cruising" around in L.A_

I will never, ever, EVER sit in the same car with Shane Gray ever again. Especially if he is driving at the speed of over one hundred miles per hour-I don't care if his car is a custom Jag or that he is a celebrity, as it makes no difference after this immensely scary joyride. I think I've screamed at every possible turn and spin at the wheel and literally cried out of relief once he swerved into the parking lot, his foot pressed firmly on the brake to decelerate. Once the car whizzed back into nothingness and Shane unhitched his seatbelt, I took a long, deep breath and unclipped my own, pushing open the door gently and stumbling out. Unfortunately Shane noticed and jogged over to my side, grasping at my arms.

"_You okay?" _

I give him the greatest, biggest frown I have ever made in the history of my lifetime to confirm the opposite of his statement. Am I okay? Oh, I don't know, I just sat in SHANE GRAY'S JAGUAR and pretty much died of vehicle suicide. As I said _"__Perfectly fine," m_y voice was cold and harsh and cut through the stony silence like a knife, but I didn't care, because I was very, very angry at him for almost taking my life. I turned around, my back facing his front, trying to show him that I was not pleased at all, but before I broke in and turned around to lecture him, my jaw dropped at exactly where we where at the moment. Where he was taking me on this "date." And where we were going to be spending the next couple of hours.

_An amusement park. _

I laughed, running, dancing, and even twirling on the sidewalk whilst I remembered moments with my father-we'd always hang out at the amusement park, buying cotton candy, riding the roller coasters until we barfed, drinking soda until our teeth were on the verge of rotting, and spending all the money dad would've saved up just for this occasion. As I tried jumping to see the park, I saw Shane with an amused look on his face. I quickly ran to him and hugged him as tight as possible. "OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!" I couldn't have been possibly happier until I realized that I was still angry with him. I looked up at him and quickly put on the "grumpy rain cloud" face to challenge him. "What? Can't a girl be excited?" I tried keeping the mask of disdain, but it started to crack a little."Not working, Mitch. Might want to try to get into the park next time before you go back to your childish ways. " I was about to retort, until I saw the group of people in front of me, staring at me with their surprised eyes and concealed smiles. I grinned at them sheepishly and then walked away from Shane, making sure that he knew that this was his entire fault and that this would have never happened if he hadn't popped the question.

_"Aw, come on Mitch! Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'll make it up to you!" _

He was smirking now, with his hands crossed over his (well-defined) chest, but his hazel eyes looked genuinely sorry. I rolled my eyes and waved him over. "Well, come on then!" This was an amusement park, and, naturally, just the feat of bringing me over here was Herculean for Shane. I decided to lay it off for him and just enjoy the ride, even though it was with one hell of a celebrity. He quickly jogged to follow me up, and we strode side by side to the ticket booth. When we reached the booth to pay for our tickets, one grumpy honey blonde, who seemed to turn her scowl into a complete look of loathing at the sight of Shane, greeted us. I stifled a laugh behind my hands and she ripped the tickets fiercely, making sure to slap them as hard as possible on Shane's palms (which were now a shade of brilliant red.)

_"Hi there. I'm Mitchie!"_ I put on my bubbliest face forward, knowing that it would tick her off-to her, I was just another wannabe pop diva that flung her hair everywhere and wore high heels to kill. I liked her at once-whoever hated Shane was good enough for me. However, slapping him was just a little too much, and now she was so going to get a "Mad Mitchie" thrown at her. "Hi. You another one of his girlfriends?" She was blunt and straightforward, and her glittering green eyes were hardened, like she held some sort of grudge on celebrities, especially ones that were called "Connect Three" and had the last names of Gray. Before I could answer, however, she shot another dirty look at Shane and her pouty, cherry pink lips opened to shoot another sardonic remark at me.

_"Trust me, don't fall for him too hard, dearie, because he's just going to ditch you like all the other damn members do."_

She seemed to have so much angst against Shane, and I quickly slammed my hands on the counter where the ticket stubs were strewn across. _"Who do you think you are, to bitch about this sweet, caring and passionate guy who's taking me to the amusement park even though we've been enemies for like, hell, and we just started talking after this other bitch at school got doused by soda by yours truly? I bet you know absolutely nothing about him and I don't care if he is an egoistical jerk-he actually joyrided my butt over to this place so that you and your other employees can get your stupid pay check and I can actually have a life and ENJOY this place."_

I huffed frantically, blowing a bang out of my face, and crossed my arms angrily. Who was this girl, to go and snarl like the whole world revolved around her at my boyfriend-Whoa. Mitchie, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? He's not your boyfriend, much less my friend. We are just hanging around together at an amusement park, me ranting on ticket handlers and he watching my whole act to his entertainment.

_I do not like Shane Gray. I do not like Shane Gray. Repeat Mantra. _

As I tried to remember that very important phrase in my head, I trained by brown eyes on the girl and Shane who were looking quite bemused at my rant. "CAN'T A GIRL RANT?" I was now completely irritated, and to add on to my annoyance, Shane went up and SHOOK HANDS with the girl. No, no joke. SHOOK HANDS. However, my mood lifted a little when I saw that the girl had squeezed Shane's hands tightly and let go with a tight smirk sprawled across her face. Shane's face displayed a look of utmost pain, which also made me a tad happier.

_"Mitchie, meet Nate's, um, friend, Caitlyn Gellar."_

The girl, Caitlyn, seized the collar of Shane's t-shirt and spoke briskly and angrily, seething with rage. _"I was only Nate's friend, huh, Shaney?"_ My eyes widened as Caitlyn spoke in her livid tone as I recognized who she was. It was obviously Caitlyn Gellar, which was why I thought she looked so familiar. She was Nate's thirteenth ex-girlfriend. Now, some say that thirteen is a lucky number, and it's true. Nate and Caitlyn met at this exact amusement park three years ago. She was the ticket handler, and Nate was taking a short walk after a stressful day. He started a chat with her, and then Nate became head over heels and asked her out and then lasted for a whole year-which was pretty much three hundred and sixty three days longer than any other girl Nate's been with. Nate wasn't a playboy, of course, since that was Shane's job. He respected women, but he always seemed to give up on dating because he never had any luck at all.

Well, after another year and half, when Caitlyn and he'd been dating for two and a half years, Nate proposed to Caitlyn. And it was pretty awesome, everyone saying that they were happy for Nate that he'd finally found his "one and only." Except Caitlyn caught Nate frolicking around with another woman in his room. And that was the end of that. Seeing Caitlyn's point of view made me realize how hurt she actually was, even if she was trying to hide it. It wasn't fair that Nate had to ditch her for some drunkette whilst she and Nate had REAL chemistry. Seriously, everywhere they went, they were listed as "America's Favourite Teen Couple" because they were the total definition of love.

_"I'm, I'm really sorry Caitlyn. I'm Mitchie, and well, the ass beside me is Shane."_

I put on a solemn, _"I'm very sorry_" face to try and get some actual talking between us. Caitlyn seemed to brighten a hundred watts as I listed Shane as less than an acquaintance, while Shane seemed to growl a bit as Caitlyn and I hit it off. "It's alright. I guess that no one really cares about me anymore, it's only about, well, him. Well, have fun with your jerkstar!" She dismissed me, and I walked back over to Shane, turning the turnstile forwards and striding through it. When I crossed over to the other side, Shane elbowed me gently. "_So, I'm a sweet, caring, and passionate guy who likes to take girls on joyrides to amusement parks, huh?" _I smacked him and walked huffily over to the roller coaster. If there was one thing that I knew Shane hated (from stealing at magazines in Target) it was roller coasters. Oh, was he ever in for it.

_____________________________________________

_Shane Gray_

_September 12, 1:55 PM_

_Pacific National Exhibition_

_"The Corkscrew"_

I will never, ever, EVER sit in the same car with Mitchie Torres ever again. "Car" being the car on a roller coaster, that is. I have always hated roller coasters, of the way they swing and of how they seem to be so far up and also of the way that they seem to be able to fall off the tracks at literally any moment. This one dipped and dived backwards and forwards, churning me into some hardcore vertigo. As I stumbled out, pushing the car door behind me, it was Mitchie's turn to catch me as I practically slumped into her arms, close to passing out. "Whoa, cowboy, what's wrong with you?" She snickered softly as she pulled me to my senses. As I started regaining my bearings, she flipped out her phone and pressed a couple buttons until her ringtone came on- something by The Jonas Brothers, I suppose. She probably blasted the song to full volume to annoy me once me-I hated the Jonas freaking Brothers more than I hated roller coasters.

_Try to stop me now but it's already too late__  
Pushing me away  
If you really don't care than say it to my face  
Pushing me away…_

_"Aw, come on Mitch."_

I tried grabbing at the phone but she waved it away teasingly. "I love the Jonas Brothers. They're like, THE best. Joe's TOTALLY my favourite brother, perhaps even my favourite celebrity! He has way better hair than you, no offence." The hint of laughter in her voice was detectable for miles, and she knew that she had hit a rough spot with her teasing, as no one ever teased the "Hair," and, besides, the Jonas Brothers' copied us all the time-from our tight pants to my glorious, rockstar-material, perfect, shining, glossy hair. I quickly pulled her into a friendly headlock and wrenched the phone away from her, holding my hand high up into the air and grasping at it tightly. She kept jumping, trying to reach at it, but as I was taller, the phone was in my control. I flipped through her ringtones, realizing that a whole playlist was stocked in her phone. "Why do you have so many songs on your phone, Mitch?" She looked a little embarrassed as she replied. "No where to store them."

_"You don't have an mp3 player or something? An Ipod? Nothing?_"

She shook her head, and I gaped. "You. Seriously. Don't. Have. An. Ipod?" She shakes her head again, a little annoyed this time, and I cross my arms. "Well, then, I'm just going to have to get you one." She looks frantically at me. "No! No, don't!" But it's too late. I see a stall with Ipods as prizes and I stride over, hoping that the host of the game is a girl. Girls will give me an Ipod for my signature, even if the Ipod belongs to the amusement park and they'll get fired from their job just for the act of "generosity" they've brought upon me.

I put on my "Prince Charming" smile and walked over to the stall as confidently as possible, giving everyone within a too-close radius near me the "I-Don't-Give-A-Damn-Bout-You-So-Piss-Off" look that only a rockstar could pull off without being snobby and standoffish. Unfortunately, when I reached the stall, the host there was a very ripped guy standing beside a rope ladder tied to a post and the horizontal bars on the ceiling of the tent. He was standing with a grin as a petite girl asked him for a demonstration. He nodded his buzz-cut of a head, and grasped the ropes, slowly making his way up. A laminated Velcro sign at the top of the ladder said "Ipod" on it, and once you'd ripped it off from the ladder, you'd have won the prize. However, the catch was that once the ladder turned over, the game was over, and you'd have to start over again. And, if you weren't a prima ballerina with the most exceptional sense of balance, you wouldn't make it.

I looked in disbelief at the game, and Mitchie patted my shoulder.

_"It's okay, Shane, really, it's FINE."_

She turned her brown eyes on my reassuringly, but before I could flat-out refuse her decision, buzz cut boy motioned her over, giving her a wink. That just made me angrier, and I rolled my sleeves up and pushed Mitchie back. "That's it, I'm going, and you're not going to stop me."She opened her mouth to protest, but I'd already pulled out my wallet and was fingering a crisp, clean five-dollar bill. Ha. Who cared about money when half of your life was already spent earning for it? I would spend all the fivers I had until I'd gotten that Nano for Mitchie. Of course, I was already pondering whether just buying the thing would have been cheaper, but I pushed the thought out of my head and walked into the booth, gripping at the ladder. The boy looked smug, and motioned for me to give it a go.

I knew that I'd need time and that the slower I climbed, the easier it would be. I stepped on the first rung gently, and pulled my other leg up, climbing, climbing, and climbing. As I made it through to the second rung, the ladder twisted as if jerked by an invisible force, and I fell onto the mat, rolling into a somersault as an accidental finale piece. Buzz Cut clapped but shook his head. "Even the leader of Connect Three can't make it up-try it if you dare!" His voice rung clear as day through the almost empty booth, and as people flocked over to see "Shane Gray," he knew he'd done the right thing-people were lining up like crazy trying to get a shot at the game just because Shane Gray was doing it.

_Oh brother. _

I pulled out my wallet once again, calm as ever, until Mitchie put her hands over mine. She took out her own wallet, passing a bill to the host, and stepped over the low wall, putting her hands over the rungs just as I did. However, she lightly did a hop-step-run on each one, as graceful as a doe, and, in no time, she'd made it up and ripped the Nano sign gently. Then she stepped down, handing the slip haughtily over to Buzz Cut, who looked as if he was in shock. Before he could respond to get her prize, however, she handed him another five dollar bill and did her "doe step" once again, tearing at the laminated rectangle effortlessly and leaping down, handing them to Buzz Cut.

_"I believe you owe me two Ipod Nanos, Sir."_

She addressed him seriously, one hand on her hips, and her lips pursed. As added effect, she ran a hand through her hair and rolled her eyes, filling in the spot of "Resident Diva" perfectly. I snickered until she ran her hand on Buzz Cut's arm, smiling seductively. _"Please?" _Now I was pretty jealous. Why didn't Mitchie ever do that to me? Buzz Cut was now looking rather weak, which was a surprise, as from his looks you'd think he'd gone through girls like a bird goes through birdhouses. Mitchie never left his gaze from him, and as she pulled at the musical devices from his hands, she gave him a wink and waved flirtatiously. "Bye!" She giggled. After that, she strode over to me and stuck her tongue out.

_"Yuck. His muscles were RIPPLING under my touch. It was so gross, really-" _

But after her little rant on his muscles, I didn't know if I was more peeved that Mitchie had done something that I couldn't, like climbing rope ladders, or if I was relieved she had no feelings toward that guy (even though she'd only known him for a couple of minutes.) And then, suddenly, I felt something being pushed into my hand. I looked at my palm, and saw an Ipod. Mitchie beamed at me and started to blabber. "Look, you tried your best, and besides, I owe you a five dollar bill, so, I decided to give you this Ipod, and I chose green, knowing that green is your favourite colour, and, well-" I looked at her strangely.

_"You know green is my favourite colour?"_

She nodded slowly, blushing, while I grinned. Maybe Mitchie Torres doesn't hate me as much as I'd thought.

___________________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 12, 9: 48 PM_

_Blue Plate Special_

_"Sauerkraut"_

After many, many roller coasters, ferris wheels, and pitching baseballs at bowling pins, we headed off to dinner at a local diner called the "Blue Plate Special." The first thing Shane did was go to the washroom (he said he was feeling rather sick after four bags of cotton candy, three buckets of popcorn, and two litres of pop.) And then he sat down and pulled the menu open, looking greener every second. I gently prodded him on the shoulder and quietly asked him if he was alright with eating, and that if he wasn't, it was perfectly fine to not take me to dinner. However, he shook his head angrily and quickly pointed at the menu.

_"That's what I want." _

My brown eyes scanned at the menu and flickered over to what he'd chosen. "Sauerkraut?" He nodded. "Uh, Shane, you know what it is, right?" "It's cabbage, isn't it? I feel like eating cabbage, and besides, it seems like the only thing I can eat on this menu without throwing up." I looked at him wide-eyed, because I'd never known anyone who liked Sauerkraut. Personally, I hated cabbage, so I've never even tried it, but if Shane wanted it and knew what it was, I guess it was okay. "Alright. Sauerkraut it is." I called the waitress over and ordered my choice of item-a burger with a milkshake and fries and then asked for Sauerkraut. The waitress, a well-endowed woman with dyed red hair and purple mascara, pursed her lips and looked at me strangely, as if Sauerkraut was a foreign word. I looked at her firmly and she shrugged, walking over to the glistening silver counters to place the order. Shane put his head on the table, squeezing his eyes shut and putting his hands on his head. He looked terribly sick, and I rather regretted making him ride the roller coasters with him. "Are you sure you're okay, Shane?" I asked cautiously, as with every word the rockstar said, he looked like he was about to hurl.

_"Fine, fine." _

I waited patiently, every once in a while looking over at Shane to make sure he was alright. _God, why did I even give a damn? _He's sick, so what? He's got enough to get medicine for himself-Jeez, Mitchie! The clatter of plates on a table evoked me from my thoughts, and I stared at the food hungrily, inhaling the smell that wafted from the large servings. As Shane got his plate, he crinkled up his nose.

_"This is Sauerkraut? Cabbage?" _

Uh-oh.

"Yes, Shane. This is what you ordered." I looked at him apprehensively, wondering what the heck he was thinking. What was wrong with the Sauerkraut, anyways? "Isn't, well, cabbage supposed to be green?" The Sauerkraut was indeed a rather yellowish colour. "I, well, it's supposed to be sort of, yellow, so, well..." My voice trailed off as Shane pushed his plate away. "I wanted cabbage, not paper thin pieces of who knows!" He was now falling into a jerky rant and I slammed my hands on the table. "OH, JEEZ, SHANE, JUST EAT IT, IT'S NOT LIKE IT'LL KILL YOU THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE WITHOUT FOOD AND THEY'RE STARVING WHILE YOU'VE ORDERED SOMETHING THAT YOU DISLIKE AND WON'T EVEN TOUCH! OH GIVE IT UP AND SHOVE THAT FOOD DOWN YOUR MOUTH!" I breathed another sigh in realization that I'd just yelled at two people today, and that was doing nothing to my looked scared and quickly shoved the Sauerkraut down his mouth, grinning and nodding every couple of seconds and even going out of his way to put a thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes and dug into my own burger.

-

In no time, we'd finished, and Shane dropped me off at my place, this time remembering to cruise at a cool sixty with his Jag. I laughed at the thought, and as I pushed the car door back, I sort of felt sad knowing that I'd probably never do this with Shane ever again. As I walked up to the house with Shane, whom insisted that he'd walk with me to the front door, I stuffed my hands in my pockets nervously. A decent girl would probably at least give Shane a thanks of gratitude. I stopped before we reached the white picket fence, and breathed slowly. "Well, Shane, I just wanted to say that I had a great time today. And, well, thanks for taking me out." He looked at me in surprise and recovered, grinning. "Well, it's nice to know you enjoyed this as much as I did." I gave a laugh and we both turned into my garden-I was hoping to show him how much work I'd done the past couple of days. As I stared at my garden, however, I let out an ear piercing scream.

_My beautiful, beautiful garden was completely destroyed._

_____________________________________________


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note/Chapter Six

**Number One:**This first part is an AUTHOR'S NOTE. For those of you who aren't interested in reading this, you can skip.

**Number Two:**You guys are amazing at reviewing. I love you all and will be posting EVERYONE whom reviewed on this chapter's penname on Chapter Seven. So start typing NOW.

**Number Three:**Catch Me is on definite hiatus. Where am I even going with the plot line, anyways? I don't even know.

**Number Four:**NO, The Secret Garden is NOT and will never be on hiatus. I love this story with all my soul and heart.

**Number Five:**I am very sorry for making y'all wait so freaking long to read this chapter.

**NOW, for the final number: (Six, in coincidence to this chapter)**

The reason that I have been taking forever is because I have a new story idea. Make sure to check it out-I hope to post it tonight or something. After that, I'll go on with the Secret Garden so HANG ON. And, for those of you hoping for a little inside look on the sixth chapter, check this out: (This is a reward for those of you who were willing to read the Author's Note.)

___________________________________

_Give me some time,  
Give me some reason  
Make up your mind and cool down the fever,  
(The) drama must die…_

_Dead End Countdown-The New Cities_

Shane

_When your loved one is in pain, how do you feel? Sad. Angry. Mad. Happy? Or perhaps a variety of mixed emotions._

_I have never felt a loved one in pain. I have never cared. My mother was in the hospital once because she suddenly couldn't breathe. That was two years ago, and even a pang of hurt of pain never crossed my mind. Do I regret? No, because my mother never loved me. My mother left our family when I was three and never came back, leaving me with my oldest brother Jason. And then my father remarried to my stepmother, and they had my youngest brother, Nate. I found this out when I saw her death in the Death Column in the Newspaper. Did I care? No. I didn't._

_You might find me harsh and cold, to think such things. She's still your mother._

_Did you mother ever beat you for trailing dirt into the house by accident? I don't think so. She was wielding something rather sharp in her hand and slammed it into my arm. I still bear the scar, and I ended up having to go into the hospital for stitches. That was when my father rowed with her, and she ended up leaving behind her life. I didn't feel pain then. I only felt it creeping around in my arm, unstill._

_But if you asked me today, if that happened to Nate or Jason, I would cry. I would cry for them, I really would. Jason was always there for me when mother left and never left my side. Nate was my littlest brother whom I loved with all the brotherly emotions that I could possibly manage. My father was brilliant-he still lived on after all the hardships he'd faced with my mother. But if you asked me again, today, if you asked me that something terrible had happened to Mitchie, I wouldn't cry._

_Why?_

_I wouldn't cry because I would be too angry too. I want to be her guardian angel, the one who's there for her from day one. She's so amazing, and I can't believe that anyone would want to hurt her. Whoever did would get some of Shane Gray kicking their ass, and even then I wouldn't be satisfied until she broke out the smile that we all knew and loved. And after that I'd try my hardest to make her happy once again, and to forget the pain she'd had to face during her ordeal. Of course, I'm talking like she's fragile glass, but I can't help it, because I…_

_I love Mitchie Torres._

_I love her. Damn. I said it._

_Some may think that I'm young for love. But I think she's amazing. She keeps me in check, keeps me alive, keeps me from being the old, jerk-ass Shane from New Jersey who hit it big in Hollywood. She makes sure that I'm myself and only myself-I don't have to pretend in front of her, don't have to worry about my image. I'm free to be the person whom I want to be. So when her garden was torn, the first thing I wanted to do was hold her. Are you okay? No words could explain how I currently felt. All I knew was that my mind was trained on one thought and one thought only-Mitchie. "The Girl of my Dreams." Wow. She may not love me, but I love her. That's all that matters. Short and sweet this muse may be, but it's also the most empowering and truthful to me. However, something happened while we were standing there, the whole world collapsing on her, the whole world collapsing on me- She pushed me away. Now I don't know what to do anymore._

_I, Shane Gray, have a broken heart. And it's been broken not by the fancy string of girls that line up in front of my house everyday-it's been broken by a small town girl that I'd just met only weeks ago._

___________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_9: 51 PM_

_House #2_

_Seaforth Street_

When my garden was trashed, I felt like I'd lost a part of something. I could handle it, of course, but what made me the most pissed was that there was a note stuck to the apple tree at the edge of the yard. Now, sometimes a note can be kind, perhaps even a love note. But this particular note brought nothing close to a welcoming greeting-the arrow had actually missed its mark by a long shot. As I plucked the paper off the mark, the top tore and I'd realized that the note had been stapled, _stapled, _to my beloved apple tree which was the same age as I was. My deceased parents planted it when I was born and it meant the entire world to me, no, more than that. As I read the note, I realized that it was scrawled in very familiar neat lettering with sickly hearts and smiley faces dotting every single letter "I."

_Hi Mitchie!_

_Hope you liked the welcome gift that I brought over to your house. Oops…was it a teensy bit bigger than you'd expected? Sorry. :)_

_And not to be rude or anything, but after this lovely "surprise," I hope that you'll keep your hands off my Shaney, since he's been complaining lately about how sticky you've been to him. Secondly, try keeping to water instead of soda-you know it rots your teeth, right? Wouldn't want those yellow beauties to turn brown now, would you?_

_Have a great day and xoxo-_

_Chelsea!_

My heart sunk even lower when I heard that Shane had thought that I was "sticky." Was I just another one of his lame-o fan girls with no life, or a wallflower who was determined to hang with him for instant popularity to him? I didn't know, but this was all just shit. I turned to him, angry, the calculations and theories spinning like clockwork in my mind. So, this whole time, his whole game plan was to befriend me and then make me into a fool in front of everyone at Grant Hill. Yeah right, Shane. That's not going to work, because Mitchie Torres doesn't fall for these things. Mitchie Torres doesn't let people push her aside and stop all over her and treat her like a bitch would-

But this time, it's different.

Why, just why, do I feel so upset when I heard that Shane had said that I was sticky? Was I? I immediately felt self-conscious, which was completely not my character. I wasn't like that-hey, I wasn't afraid to admit that I'd dumped soda over Chelsea in front of the principal, and that took guts, which I knew. But, with Shane, this was entirely a different matter. Firstly, he took me out to an amusement park and was so sweet, as no guys are ever even willing to take me out. And secondly, he helped me with the garden and everything, even though he was, well, a serious asshole.

I mean, he's sweet. Sexy, even. But, what the fuck was he doing to me? So I turned on him. Literally, like shouting and bashing him and everything. Why? Why was he betraying me like this? What did I ever do to him? I wanted to cry, cry for my garden, cry for the fact that he'd played into this all along. I wasn't as good as I thought I was, really. Instead, I was tricked and played with. I started hitting him as hard as I could, kicking and wriggling in his grasp dangerously. Way to go, Mitchie-that really scored friend points with the biggest rockstar in teenage history.

_"Shane, how could you do this to me? You, you jerk!"_

I pushed him and let out a little howl, the tears falling down my cheeks. To make it worse, he caught me, and held me, just like that. He rocked me back and forth, even when I thrashed at him. I pounded my fists as if in a tantrum and fell on the wet grass, huddling into a ball. I'd just been betrayed, humiliated, and teased all at once, from a little piece of paper. I'd also just broke down in front of a celebrity, and all he was doing was pulling me up and gripping me in a tight lock in his arms.

_"Mitch, I wasn't in it."_

I didn't believe him at all. Go fuck a cow, Shane. What you did with Chelsea was low. Heck, you two deserved each other.

_"Shit, Shane. If you didn't like me in the first place, you could've said so. I mean, fuck-"_

_"Mitchie, I had nothing to do with this, I'm serious."_

_'Chelsea-"_

I'd taken a wrong turn.

_"What did she do, Mitchie? Tell me."_

He now held me at arm's length, looking worried and angry at the same time, and I broke into tears realizing just how sweet he was being. Was this the Shane I had met on the first day? No, I couldn't believe it either.

_"She…she…"_

I stuck the note in his hand and huddled into his chest, probably staining his tee with my wet, never-ending tears. His build seemed to fit me perfectly, until he tensed up. I realized that he'd probably finished the note by then, and to confirm my theory, he held me closer and whispered in my ear. I felt so safe in his arms that I didn't even give a damn that this was Shane Gray I was hugging. His current demeanour seemed too good to be true.

_"Mitchie, it's okay, it's okay. You'll see."_

_"No, Shane, I"_

_"I love you, Mitchie. And I'll prove it to you tomorrow. I will."_

He planted a kiss on the top of my head, and ran away, his shadow fading into the bleak darkness that covered half of the L.A area. I wiped the tears from my cheeks, and a thought came into my head. It was scary and wonderful and amazing at the same time, but all I could say was that suddenly my broken garden didn't hurt me as much.

It was him.

Shane.

___________________________________

_Nate Gray_

_9: 51_

_House #1_

_Seaforth Street_

_-_

_Hello there._

_In case you didn't know, I'm Nate. As in the same Nate Gray whom is part of Connect Three. And if you can't put two and two together, I'll give you the correct answer, which is that I'm Shane Gray's little half-brother. Ring a bell yet? That's right, it's always about Shane. Shane gets it all, like the bad boy/rebel/front man persona that some people out here are striving for every day. Some people work for it, and then some people are born for it. Well, what do you think? Shane was of course born for it, from the leather attitude to the complete diva attitude that he'd formed in a second. But it's not always about Shane is it? Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose it is. Well, in that case, what about me? What about Nate Gray, the group member who always has to remind people that Shane's his brother to get recognition?_

_You have nothing to say, right?_

_I know. I've been through it. I've seen it all. Nate may be the cute one, but he's no Shane. Nothing would ever make him like Shane because Shane was the real thing. I've had comments like that before. I was no "Bon Jovi" or Mick Jagger. I've never been the one whom was in the spotlight, ever, because I'm always the forgotten one. But who cares? Because I have a secret that I'm going to share with you, since its not like anyone else is going to listen, right? Well, here goes nothing. I was the one._

_The one?_

_You might be thinking, what the fuck? But I'll explain, and no, I'm not "the one" whose going to save this world from utter devastation or something. No, the answer is much more simpler and yet just as horrid. I was the one whom destroyed Mitchie's garden. And you know what? I have no regrets. No fucking regrets, because I had help from one of the bitchiest girls at school and everything worked out as planned-except for the part of Shane kissing her. Shane was supposed to retaliate, not show his sensitive side! I was staring out at the window, staring at Mitchie crying, and then staring at Shane holding her. Of course. Of fucking course Mitchie was just like every other shitty girl out there._

_The reason I was angry was because I liked the first time in my life, there was a girl. A girl whom actually liked Nate Gray and didn't give a damn that Shane was his brother-she actually gave him all the crap she had in front of him. There was a girl out there who wasn't going to ditch me for Shane for the first time in my life. And that was when I fell for her so hard. I also knew that she was evasive and angry at Shane, so there was no way that she could ever fall for Shane._

_But, of course, I was wrong. Like I usually was._

_But when I found Shane humming happily in the hallway and spinning his Jag keys, I knew that Mitchie had accepted his date offer, even if she didn't think it was one. Anger pulsed, and I knew what I had to do. I had to call Chelsea, and she was so happy that I'd called, she instantly agreed, as this was also revenge on Mitchie whom had dumped soda all over her. Wonderful. I'd finally had an accomplice, someone who was wishing to achieve the same thing with me. And then I realized that she was really in this for Shane. That's right, Shane Gray. So I tore at her garden in pure hatred and fury, ripping every chunk and every flower out of its socket, etching angrily at the apple tree's bark with my fingernails, and kicking at every bloom in sight._

_I loved her. I really did. And all she did was go to Shane, as everyone else in the whole damn world did. And even though it used to be her and me at first, the tables had turned. No more Nate. So don't get me wrong, really. I do love my brother-I mean, we're of the same how many times can you survive always knowing that you're just not good enough?_

_The answer? You can't. But I have. And I'm still living the nightmare._

___________________________________

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 13, 9:15 AM_

_House #1_

_Seaforth Street_

_-_

_So don't let anyone scare you__  
you know that I'll protect you  
Always,  
now through the thick and thin…_

_Kelsey-Metro Station_

-

I open my locker door and grab my textbooks from my bag, pushing them into the small metal square that I can claim ads mine at school. It's covered everywhere in the usual Mitchie look: Black fleur de leis wallpaper, a mirror, everything tucked neatly into the cramped space, including my leather jacket. My songbook, my precious songbook, is sitting still in the top shelf, and the photo of my parents is left hanging at the very back so that my eyes are the only that look regretfully at them every single day. I look at the overall locker and find a sense of familiarity in it-unlike my garden, which is still in ruins. And perhaps rather unlike a very well known rockstar who lives right beside me.

Shane.

I keep asking myself, what are we? Of course we're friends, and maybe even best friends even if I wouldn't admit it. But were we really compatible with each other? I'd just met-

_"Mitchie." _

I spun around to see a familiar blond haired boy looking sheepishly at me, hands in his pockets.

_"Oh. Hello there, Bradley." _

His eyes bored into mine, and I blushed on contact. I wasn't used to even Bradley speaking to me. However, just as I was getting comfortable with Bradley's persona around me, I noticed that he'd just brought six other gorgeous guys to line up in front of me, all sporting football jerseys. Of course Bradley played football-I'd heard that Shane was absolutely terrible at the game, but if you were enrolled into Grant Hill and its prestigious football team, you were guaranteed a golden ticket to popularity.

I glanced at Bradley, an eyebrow arched up high in question. He chuckled and shrugged. "Mitchie, meet Calder, Harris, Luke, Keenan, Tommy, and Peter. Uh, guys, meet Mitchie." Seven pairs of eyes stared back at me, and I gave a small smile. I was never really the popular one, so this came in as a surprise. The boys gave a glance until one of them spoke up.

_"Well…Mitchie, we, um, heard what happened with your garden, and well, we just wanted to say we made these." _

WHAT?

My garden was already headline news at school? Well, it must've been, if the football players had heard of it. The boys gave me a bright pink piece of paper with Chelsea's picture in black. The bottom of the page was scrawled in white with the words "Got Bitch?" on it, and another of the boys, probably Harris, came up and toyed with the clear tape in his hands. I gaped, and then frowned, and then laughed. I ran over to Bradley and gave him a big bear hug. "Thanks, guys! Wow, seriously, this is amazing! But aren't you guys going to get in trouble for it?"

Bradley turned pink. "Well, it'll be worth it." He gently scuffed the ground with his shoe and started taping the posters to the walls. All six boys quickly started taking the freshly printed sheets and slapping them all over, making sure that every blank surface was covered with at least one of the posters. It was quite fun, really, knowing that Chelsea was going to throw a major Bitch tantrum at everyone and yet she wouldn't know who would've done it, since she had no ended up finishing quickly and had covered the whole downstairs hall. "Wow, thanks, guys, this means so much to me!" I was now beaming and, well, more than content about the way things were going. I pretty much had the whole football team rooting for me, and my status was pretty much a lowlife. I leaped at Bradley and hugged him again, giggling.

_"Thanks SO much, Bradley."_ He just grinned at me, scanning me.

And then, suddenly I saw those familiar hazel eyes, the well-known dark hair and six foot build.

Shit.


	7. Chapter 7

Heyya everyone! Sorry for the ***temporary*** hiatus.

When did I write the last chapter of _The Secret Garden_? I can't even remember.

Anyways, I was having some **major **_writer's block _

UNTIL MY** *SUPER AWESOME AND AMAZING*_ "sister"_**_ Tessie _forced the book

**_"Hush Hush" by Becca Fitzpatrick (IT IS AMAZING, GO READ IT. WAYYYY BETTER THAN TWILIGHT. And, no offence, Stephenie Meyer. :) _**

onto my lap. Now I have new material! YAAAAYYYY!!!

Uh, so, you guys are probably_** too excited**_ _(I hope) _to read my author's note,

So I'll stop _rambling_ right this moment.

And,

One **last** thing _(HAHA) _

2010 Olympics are coming to **VANCOUVER!!! **Whose gonna go and watch?

_MUK MUK! MUK MUK! MUK MUK! _

Okay.

Welcome to _Chapter Seven of The Secret Garden. _

By** Jamie. :)**

**-**

_Mmmm whatcha say,  
Mmm that you only meant well?  
Well of course you did..._

_  
Mmmm whatcha say, (whatcha say)  
Mmmm that it's all for the best?_

_Whatcha Say-Jason Derulo _

_-_

_I'm very, very, very good at concealing my emotions._

_I don't really like to show them. My real ones, at least-not the ranting, asshole behaviour that I'd leaned on as foundation for my outer persona. I'm one of those who bottles up their feelings and keeps it under 24-hour surveillance, so that no one can really get into it. I'd say that if I wanted to become an actor, I'd ace the job and earn it at once with my acting skills-and, perhaps being Shane Gray would help, too. But I wasn't living the All-American dream without stumbling upon a few flakes along the way. I don't like others to know what's going on with my mind. My mind is mine, and every thought in it is inexplicably personal. Except I'd just like people to know-to know that I'm not the tough rocker that everyone thinks I am. I don't have an "iron fist" or whatever._

_I'm just as weak as everyone else is._

_I'm sensitive. I get scared. I cry. I'm a broken person. But no can seem to understand that. Except her. She treats me like a normal person-just another guy from the neighbourhood who parked his ass in this school. She doesn't give a damn that I'm famous. But there's one emotion, one feeling for her, that is only reserved for her. I felt it. I'm feeling it now. It's anger. It's sadness. It's the salty tears that leak out of your eyes. And it's everything in between. And all these mixed emotions are for her-only for her. I may not show it, but it's there._

_Betrayal. Loss. Hurt. _

_And Jealousy. _

_Oh yes, I, Shane Gray, who can get any girl I want, is jealous. _

_-_

_-_

_Mitchie Torres_

_September 13, 9:25 AM_

_Grant Hill High_

_Seaforth Street_

_-_

Nothing at all. No, really, there was nothing-no emotion, no telling what the heck he was thinking.

_"Oh. Hey Bradley! Hey Mitch."_

He just flashed his million-dollar grin, gave a quick wave to me, and slapped hands with Bradley. That was it. It was so normal, so friendly, that I surprised myself with a wave of suspicion. _Is he, like, SHITTING ME? _I concentrated on boring my brown eyes into his hazel ones, but all they showed was laughter, as if they were mocking me. He wasn't revealing anything that I could see, which strangely made me feel rather upset. It was as if this really didn't matter to Shane. Would he care if I'd gone away with another guy? The thought sprung up some strange emotions that I'd never felt before. It, well, it made me feel like I wanted Shane to be mine, even though I didn't possibly like him..._right? _

Yeah, I could never._ Mitchie Torres does not fall for egoistical popstars that whine when their jeans aren't skinny. And, besides, he probably goes through girls like a director goes through actors. If I did date him, (and this is just a thought, because I don't really want this to happen) things would turn out really weird and strange. I mean, c'mon, the fangirls would probably break into my house and write "man-stealing whore" everywhere. _

_So, if the fact was that I didn't like him, then why did I have a sudden urge for his attention? I was supposed to be unaffected by Shane! _

_"Hey Shane."_

So much for not caring. I'd just chimed his name, hoping to trigger some sort of feeling through him. Unfortunately, he just "laughed" with his eyes and reined me in with a great big bear hug. I hugged back, a bit miffed, and then pulled away, hoping that this action would upset him. I wanted to see him upset, unhappy-God, Mitchie, you're such a liar.

_"What are you guys up to?"_ Shane asked casually after the embrace. Bradley held up the posters and Shane laughed, not in the least jealous. _Jealous. _It was such an ugly word, and yet I wanted to see him jealous. It was weird-why did I feel this way? I'd never really wanted this emotion around, and now I was pretty desperate for a wave of it to crash over him. I wished and wished that something would knock him away.

And then something crashed alright.

It happened when his cell phone hummed and vibrated to some "Man in Black" track. "Excuse me," Shane mumbled, digging in the pockets of his jeans for his cell. Once he'd gotten it, he flipped it open, and in that sexy, seductive voice of his-Wait.

Back up. Back up.

In that ugly, gross, disgusting, revolting voice of his, he said a "hello" to whoever was on the other line. His dark eyebrows arched up in surprise, and then confusion. And then a dark look passed over his face, shadows filling every crease, making him look dangerous, which was soon overpowered by a look of sadness. The mixed emotions were so strange-they made Shane look older and mature, which were two things that were not in Shane's good books. As Shane continued talking into the phone, he didn't speak much, only saying the occasional "mhmms" and "yes" and "alright." But there was one sentence that completely caught me off guard-it was the sentence that crashed over me, that sent me into oblivion.

_ "Yeah. Okay. I know. Thanks for telling me, Chels." _

Chels was the nickname for only one person I knew.

_Chelsea Reimer. _

_-_

_-_

_Nate Gray_

_September 13, 12:05 AM_

_Grant Hill High_

_Seaforth Street_

_-_

I paced around the hallway of Grant Hill angrily. Today had not been the best day-Chelsea was acting quite weird, and looked rather guilty. She could not regret what she'd done-she'd done it, or at least helped with it, and she'd have to take it to the grave. She also kept shooting solemn looks at me and was quite quiet, as if I was teetering on the edge of the calm and the storm. It was as if she knew something that would happen to me, something that wouldn't be pleasant.

_Maybe she told someone, Nate. Maybe she did. _

No. Impossible. I was a fucking rockstar, she was a lowly girl. She would not betray me to _him. _

God. I hated him. Shane Gray. I wanted all the revenge that I could place on him-he was always first, I was always second. This was my turn, my turn to be number one, just like it'd always used to be. It wasn't fair that he took credit for everything-no one knew that it was me, Nate Gray, that wrote all the songs, that created all the compositions, that made Connect Three famous. _"God, Shane, your songwriting skills are the bomb!" Yeah. Well, sorry everyone, but Shane's never put a pencil on paper in his damn life._

Other than that, life was just great. My mood lifted slowly as I saw a familiar brunette rounding the corner.

_"Mitchie!"_

Her brown eyes caught mine, and she broke into a smile. I gave a grin back, trying to push the fact that it was I who'd destroyed her garden into the very depths of my brain. "Hey Nate!" She replied, her eyes scanning the hallway. I wondered who or what she was looking for-she might have beamed at me, but her eyes looked deflated and unhappy. Her body was rather tense, and she was clutching her books so tightly that her knuckles were a ghastly white.

"Wanna grab some lunch with me?" I poked my thumb over to the direction of the cafeteria, hoping that she'd break into the smile that could light up the sky. She nodded happily, and I felt relieved. It meant that she still enjoyed my company, and that she hadn't suspected anything at all. Thank God that she believed me to be innocent-even though I'd done something unforgivable, I didn't want to see the look of pain, the look of hurt. The look of betrayal. I didn't want to see them at all-that would just pull her and Shane closer, and there was enough of Shane already.

"So, how was today?"

I asked her gently, hoping not to sound pushy. She was awfully quiet, and didn't answer until I reached the lunch line and slid my plastic tray on the chrome racks. "Hamburger and fries, please." She asked quietly, trailing her eyes over to me. "It was fun. Uh, we were hanging up some posters of Chelsea...You know, that kind of stuff." I nodded, but was curious as to whom exactly "we" was. "Oh. Who were you hanging them up with?"

I tried to look as casual as possible and willed my curls to stay flat and not spring up, so that it wouldn't give off a suspicious and guilty look.

"Oh. Bradley. Y'know, he's on the football team-"

I racked my brain to see if I knew anyone called Bradley. While I was thinking, I pulled a curly fry and snacked

Okay. Good. Not S-H-A-N-E--T-H-A-T--I--H-A-T-E-D.

As I grabbed my own burger and onion rings, I realized that I'd never bothered to ask exactly _why _they were hanging up posters of Chelsea. Ah, well. The juicy burger distracted me from my wondering as I took a large bite out of it. Finishing the fries, I quickly chugged down my can of fizzy, carbonated coke. Nothing was better than good old grease from the States itself-I couldn't see how supermodels could withstand the power of Micky D's and the fast foods that dotted US like grass on dirt.

Suddenly, I started feeling strange.

Maybe the burgers were too delic-

_-_

_-_

_Shane Gray_

_September 13, 12:35 AM_

_Grant Hill High_

_Seaforth Street_

_-_

_Red._

_Red Cross. Paramedics. Hospital. _

Say it all you like, but it's not a pretty place. I dashed through the towering building, the white walls and the sparkling, sanitized tiled floors making me feel a little woozy, and turned deftly down the corridor. I was looking for room number 216. As my eyes quickly scanned the oak doors that listed numbers (the door that I'd just passed by being number "345,") my mind reeled. Today was without a doubt one of the strangest days ever-all the catastrophes that I'd suffered through a lifetime had never added up to what I'd just gone through this week, and today had just added three to the never-ending list. The thoughts misted in my mind as I ran down a flight of stairs, a stitch gathering in my side, and finally found the right room. I flung open the door, greeting a certain curly haired brother of mine, whom looked pale and weak.

_Yeah right, buddy. Go fuck a cow. _

The sea-green curtains were long and heavy, made out of canvas. A large bouquet of assorted flowers, from hydrangeas to begonias to roses, were scattered everywhere, and boxes of Godiva were lying on the chairs, on the bed, and on the table that was pulled next to the creaky, metal bed. There were sheer, lacy pink ribbons everywhere, dotting the boring, white floor with sparks of color. Guess Nate's fangirls had gotten to him first.

"Shane."

Nate said my name weakly and gave a sheepish wave. A tacky hospital bracelet clung to his wrist, and announced Nate as "_Nathaniel Rowan." _I sniggered, knowing that Nate hated his awfully formal first and middle name, but remembered exactly what I was doing here in the first place. Sorry Nate, but I'm not here to take a load of your shit that you've created. You've messed up, bad, and I'm here to kick your sorry ass.

"Nate. Hey. Guess who called me today?"

Nate's dark eyes flickered with guilt and fright. It was only for a couple of seconds, but it was enough to let me know that I was right, and what he'd done was unforgettable, unforgivable, and undeniable. The three deadly u's. I'm starting to think that the best things come in threes-The Fates, Clovers, and brothers. Oops. Brothers are best as twos, now that one has betrayed us. _"Come on Nate. You know who. Let me give you a hint. It's a she, and her name starts with a C. The letter C. As in Cat. As in, the cat just got let out of the bag."_

_"Huh?" _

Not-so-innocent sorry ass radar beeping like hell right now.

"Chelsea. Chelsea Reimer. You know. Blonde. Your comrade in crime."

Nate glared at me. "What the fuck, Shane?"

"You destroyed Mitchie's garden, asshole."

* * *

-

_Author's Note: **Please Read. **_

_**-**_

So, what did you think of the long awaited Chapter Seven? I found this chapter very difficult to write, as I'd just mentioned that my hiatus was because of some major writer's block. I felt no connection to this story anymore and had actually thought of dropping it and the concept.

_Tsk, Tsk!_

Haha. Guess I'm not very determined, hey? Anyways, I just wanted to say that I've decided to dedicate this chapter to all the** war veterans,** as this Wednesday is Remembrance Day (For those who haven't been following up, the day that I wrote this chapter was mainly between November 8th and 9th, year 2009. And I'm not sure if Remembrance Day is the same in the States, but if it isn't, it's also Leonardo DiCaprio's birthday. Tee Hee.)

I had taken my first trip to California two summers ago, and I remembered gazing at the beautiful art stalls that were set up by the gorgeous shorelines of Santa Barbara. The water lapped against the hot sand, and the sun beamed down, smiling on the lush, giant palm trees that grazed the sidewalks of S.B. (which is officially my favorite place in the world as of now. I haven't been to even more amazing places such as Paris, Rome, Venice, and England yet. Sorry. :) As I'd mentioned, I live in Vancouver, a very urban place (like Seattle, if you haven't been) that suffers from lots of rain and huge snowstorms in the Winter-and has NO palm trees. Sadly.

Anyways, as I walked along the beach, I saw many crosses sticking up with names or pictures. The occasional ones had flowers or poppies or some sort. But the scariest thing was that there were just _so many-_It was hard to believe that there were this many people that had died fighting in wars, stupid wars that never saved anyone. Personally, I've always believed that war has only hurt us and made our race corrupt with deceit, lies, weaponry, rage, and anger.

I felt saddened by the sight. I'll always remember it, it's something hard to forget. But for all of those who have died in service or have fought, I'd like to dedicate this to them, even if it isn't much, considering that I have four months left before I've lived fourteen years, and I doubt that any war veterans are actually on Fanfiction right now, reading about Shane, Mitchie, and their happy lives. :)

But I just want to make a statement to everyone reading this that I care, and that I hope you do too.

Thanks for listening to me. :)


End file.
